The Fire Triangle -- Part II, Oxidizer

The Fire Triangle: Book II - Chapter 52

But now...was that gut feeling about to play out?

One way or another, Vernon J. Rodenberg sensed that he was about to get his answers.

And so, he sat back and listened as Conor continued with his story.

We were on the road for only a little bit longer than the drive between Leopanon and Milfurred; it would've gone even faster, if we hadn't been held up by a car wreck.

When we stopped, I knew right away that we hadn't made it all the way to Tom's River; not yet, not this soon. I wouldn't even have checked through one of the portholes, if I hadn't heard the truck doors opening and closing. When I looked, I saw that we were on a residential street somewhere. What, now? Moving over to the other side of the boat, I saw this big, white house, with a cyclone fence around the yard next door, big enough enclose a football field. I had no idea what was on the other side—it was those fences with metal slats slats through the wire—but I could see what looked like whip antennas, sticking up, over the top of it. What the heck was going on...?

Before I could finish that thought, another one rode in over the top of it; not a thought really, more of a feeling. I needed to get the fox out of here, and right NOW!

This time, I didn't hesitate; I threw on my pack and hurried out on deck, making sure to keep low. Almost immediately, I heard the voice of the fishing cat again, coming from up towards the cab of the truck. I couldn't make out any words, but that told me I needed to get a move on, pronto.

Yeah, riiight...except even without looking down, I could tell that I was too high off the ground to jump for it. Ohhhh, WHY did I have to go and sneak a ride on board a stinking sailboat? Thanks to that stupid keel, I was at least ten feet off the ground. Even if I could make it without hurting myself, no way would someone not see me. What was I going to...?

Wait a sec; that tiedown strap! Maybe I could slide down...never mind, DO it!

I grabbed hold, wrapped my legs around the strap, and let myself go. Whoa, no...what the heck, was this thing made outta Teflon or something? I was moving fast; way too fast. If I didn't slow down, I was gonna sprain something. I tightened my grip and it worked; I quit slipping so fast, but it felt like someone was taking a blowtorch to my pawpads. I wanted to fox-scream...no wait, they'd hear. I bit my lip; tasted blood in my mouth.

My slide for life took maybe four seconds...but it seemed to take three hours.

I literally hit the ground running, bolting away from that sailboat and never once looking back, listening again for the sound of an outcry and footsteps charging after me. They never came.

Once more, I lucked out; today just happened to be recycling day and most of the residents had cardboard and whatnot put out on the sidewalk for pickup. I ducked around the first pile that I came to, and looked to see what was going on behind me.

When I did, it was just in time to see one of the water buffaloes propping a ladder up against the side of the sailboat, while the fishing cat stood nearby with his arms crossed. Whoa, I had been soooo right to get my tail out of there...but now I needed to get it in gear. If Ronnie's dad had been able to tell that there'd been stowaways on his trailer, then for sure this feline would know that he'd been harboring an uninvited guest. A fishing cat's sense of smell is way keener than an onager's.

Trying to keep cool, I turned and walked away; I didn't run, I walked. But as soon as I was around the corner, I bolted.

It turned out to be a much shorter run than I'd anticipated; about twenty yards up the street I saw a group of mammals gathered on the sidewalk. Oh, great...I could picture it already, tilted heads and raised eyebrows. "What are you running for, fox-kid?"