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The protesters had returned.
Heather eyed them carefully as she hopped to the bunnymover platform. They were calm and quiet as they stood with their banners that read:
'Stop the war!' 'Killing is Not KY00T!'
They also tried to pass out leaflets to the busy bunnies.
They'd been there for several days and remained calm and cool even though they'd been heckled fiercely and hassled by the guardbuns.
Cautiously, she hopped up to them. "You're not from around here, are you?"
"Oh no, we're from Riverside Parlor City Warren," one of the protesters said. "We're hoping to spread our message of peace and ky00t to both bunnies and humans alike."
The other <agreefluffed>. "Yes, our human friends are deeply involved and committed to bringing an end to the War so that our peoples may live in peace" <fluff> "and harmony." <poofle>. "Would you like to read about it?"
"Oh," <indecisivefluff> "okay."
She accepted one of the leaflets.
She read it while she rode the bunnymover home from work, completely oblivious to the odd looks she got.
As the bunnymover clicked along the tracks Heather continued to read the pamphlet.
"One look in the mirror confirms the facts: we are ky00t - the living embodiment of all things fluffy and wonderful. Wiggle your nose and ask your reflection, 'Shall I go and kill another living creature? Shall I splatter my glossy fur with blood and have my graceful paws drip with gore?' The answer must always be no. One cannot embrace a bloody bunny."
Heather nodded at the simple logic of it.
"There are always those who point to our claws, our fangs, and proclaim that we are creatures of the hunt. This is an illusion. They are hidden from view because they are the last - the very last - thing to use when our kits are in danger. Against the wolf, the fox and the wolverine they are the perfect weapons. Against the axe, the trap and the gun they are a poor substitutes for the Ky00t, the Fluff and the Shimmywiggle."
Yes, Heather thought. Yes.
"To embrace violence drags us down to the level of mere predator, and makes us no better than the deluded humans who seek our destruction. We are called to higher goals. For this we must find within ourselves the Great Ky00t which has no beginning and no ending..."
Yes; this was more like what she had signed on for.
"I'm leaving."
"But Heather," <distressed fluff> "You can't just pack up and go," her mate pleaded. "I love you. We've been so happy together."
"Oh, Bramble," she touched her nose to his, "I love you too. But I can't live like this. The War. The killing..."
"It's the monkeys' fault," he said harshly, flattening his ears.
His ears popped back up. "I didn't mean..."
"I know you didn't," Heather sighed. "It's okay. I became a bunny willingly, because of the ky00t. But my family are still human and I love them. I can't look upon them as my enemy." She blinked sadly. "I just can't. And they're right. Hate is not ky00t, war is not ky00t."
"They're wackos," Bramble complained, "A pissant little warren in a burned-out industrial town."
"I don't care. I'm going."
She paused at his silence. "You could come with me."
"No. But... I'll leave the door open if you want to return."
She bunnyhugged him. "Oh Brambles, you're the best."
"I'll write as soon as I get there!" she promised as she hopped to the door.
Farley looked up at the darkening sky and felt the coolness of night come quickly, too quickly to be normal. But he was not afraid.
"Hello, Farley," a spectral voice said. A large Black Rabbit hopped towards him.
"Oh, hello," Farley <welcomefluffed>. "I haven't seen you in a while."
"Been busy; always busy. Yourself?"
Farley chuckled. "New day, same old fluff. Actually, we are doing something new. We're sending pilgrims out to spread the message of the ky00t. Maybe - maybe we can stop the violence when all bunnies... and humans too... can see the Fluff within and embrace it."
"Yes, I've met a few of your preachers. Business encounters, I'm afraid."
"Oh dear." <droopears> "How did they meet their end?"
"I can't tell you that," the Black Rabbit said. "But I can say that it was our own people."
"That's a shame." <sadfluff>
"One chooses a Path," the Black Rabbit said quietly. "One's actions define it. And so it is. But let us not talk of such things. Not when there is such Beauty before us." <serenefluff> "Sunset. My favorite part of the day."
In companionable silence they watched the day die.
As the moon rose the Black Rabbit turned its silvery eyes upon Farley. "I've come to warn you. I shouldn't, but I will. A newcomer will cause you trouble. Be on your guard."
Farley awoke in his burrow.
He pondered the dream carefully. He'd have to speak with Lorrie.
"And after reading your pamphlet, I had to come," Heather said to the young white doe. "Everything just made so much sense."
"Oh, which one was that?" Lorrie Whitetail asked. Her visitor dug the paper out of her bunnypack and showed it to her.
"Ah yes. I'm rather proud of that one." <modest poffle>. "Have you attended newcomer orientation?"
"I'm on my way there now."
"If you have any questions, please feel free to ask me or any of the other bunnies here." Lorrie said serenely.
"Well, I do have one," Heather <scuffpawed>. "Why do you take blood samples of all your newcomers?"
"Just a routine medical check," Lorrie <soothingfluffed> "So if you have any problems we can meet them."
"You're not prejudiced against... converts? I mean, those who weren't... born a bunny."
Lorrie looked compassionately at her. "Of course not. But we would like to keep track of the bunnyvirus. We didn't have any with the virus locally until recently."
She touched Heather's paw. "Was it a hard transition?"
"My brother saw me... between," she said sadly. "It freaked him out. That hurt more than any physical pain I endured."
Lorrie touched noses with her. "Does he understand?"
"I don't know," she sighed. "But he lives in this area," <perkears> "Maybe I can visit him! Oh you'd like him! He's adorable!" <bouncebounce>
"Let's be cautious about this," Lorrie warned. "But now you'd best get to the orientation. See me later about this."
"Sure!" Heather <happyfluffed> and hopped out of Lorrie's office.
From behind a wall hanging Farley hopped out. "She could be the one I've been warned about."
Lorrie looked at him with narrow eyes. "Let us hope we won't need to do anything drastic."
"Whoa, Tready," Jelly <pawbumped> his friend, "Look at that doe."
Tready looked over with perked ears. "Oooo. She's a big one. I'll bet she'll throw a big litter. And quite the ky00tie."
"That *is* what we're here for," Jelly <noddled> to his friend. "Let's go sit next to her."
The two bucks approached the large doe.
"Hi there," Tready said. "Waiting for the slide show?"
"Umm, yes," the doe replied. "Are you new here too?"
"Yep," Jelly said. "We got in yesterday. I'm Jelly - short for Jelly Belly and this is Tready."
"Which is short for Treads-Lightly-Upon-Dry-Leaves," the second buck <greetingfluffed>. "My folks were hippie-bunnies. They would really have liked it here."
"I'm Heather," the doe responded. "You said, would have?"
"Pressed into milbun service," he snorted. "Never saw them again."
"The war... terrible," Heather <sighfluffed>.
"That's how I lost part of an ear," Jelly said as he tilted a frayed ear. "And it wasn't Fudds, it was other bunnies. I refused an order to kill a kit."
"That's terrible!" Impulsively, she bunnyhugged him.
"So much pain," she said, "So much fighting. Not enough fluffing."
"That's why we're here," Tready <noddled>. "We've had enough of the war, the violence."
As they chatted, three more buns hopped into the room. A fourth came in and cleared his throat. "Please come to order. Thank you. Welcome to Riverside Parlor City Warren. My name is Mr. Puff. Since you all have indicated your intentions of staying we must warn you that there are dangers here."
He kept his voice calm. "There are Fudds in the area."
There came nervous chatter amongst the newcomers.
"Here?" A concerned voice cried out, "But this is nowhere!"
"Please relax. If you take precautions you will avoid any encounters with these sadly misinformed humans. I myself have encountered them and survived to tell of it. We have some slides of the poor creatures who call themselves the Mixed Fudd Division, so you know them if... on the rare chance... you should encounter them. The thing to remember is no matter what _do not attack them_. Flee like a regular bunny."
"Lights please."
The room darkened and a slide projector hummed to life. Heather settled in, comfortably nestled between Jelly and Tready. This was going well; she'd even begun making new friends.
The first slide was a drawing of an elderly Asian man with a 'Fu-Manchu' style moustache.
"This is a rendering of their leader, Phong," Puff began. "We have little information on him. Even this drawing is a guess from a sighting many years ago. But be aware that before the Agreement, he had no qualms about killing kits."
The next slide was another drawing of a heavy-set, bearded man dressed in a farmer's bib along side a slender man in an orange jumpsuit.
"Agents Sargasso and Orange. The Fudds most often fight in teams of two to three. They refer to themselves as Agents to hide their identities."
Several more slides went by, mostly drawings of odd humans with and strange Agent names.
Jelly whispered to her, "Looks like we could use more information on these Fudds."
"Quiet, please," Puff called out. "Now we've had a lot of activity of two Fudds recently and we have pictures of them courtesy of another warren. Please note them carefully because they are the most active."
The projector clicked. "These are Agents Matrix and Agent Stick."
Heather gasped at the images on the screen. Even with the sunglasses and trenchcoat she knew that figure.
"Oh, Frith!" she <fluffed> in distress, "It's my brother!"
"There, there now," Lorrie fluffed soothingly as she handed Heather another tissue. "Are you sure that the human in the pictures was your brother?"
"Yes," Heather sobbed, "that's him. Oh my poor Dougie! He saw me and... became a Fudd!" she wailed.
"It's not your fault," Lorrie reassured her.
"Here, have a Snapple(tm)."
"Oh, thank you," Heather gulped it down gratefully. "What am I going to do?" <worrypoofle>
"Just go to your room and rest." Lorrie said gently.
"You're not going to hurt him, are you?"
"Only if he causes us harm," <serenefluff>. "And we've remained well hidden from Fudd surveillance. I'm sure there won't be a problem."
Reassured, Heather hopped out of Lorrie Whitetail's office.
Jelly and Tready were waiting for her. "You okay?" Jelly asked.
"I don't know," she sniffed as they hopped to her room. "And I don't know what they're going to do about this. My brother... he's always been my hero, my protector. Now he's my enemy..."
"He doesn't have to be," Jelly said softly as they came to her room.
"What do you mean?" She motioned them to enter.
"Wouldn't you like to be with your brother again?" Tready asked as he closed the door.
"Oh yes, yes. But he's a Fudd now." Her ears drooped.
"He doesn't have to be," Jelly repeated. "The solution to your problem, and to the warren's, is at hand. You have the bunnyvirus, and so do several others."
Tready <noddled>. "We can do this. We can reduce the threat of at least one Fudd and you can be reunited with your beloved brother."
"You mean..."
"Precisely. But we have find a way to bring him to us."
"You handled Heather very well," Farley said.
Lorrie Whitetail stared at her desk. "You think she's the one you were warned about?"
<shrugpoofle> "Good possibility."
"We'd better have guards keep an eye on all the recent recruits," Lorrie murmured as she reached for her phone.
Farley caught a glimpse of a Shadow moving past the door.
"Sorry," a deep voice said that only he could hear, "Business visit."
Farley gasped. "Oh no..."
Lorrie paused, phone in hand. "What?"
"Thunderfoot!" he cried out. He turned and dashed to the old bun's room.
Lorrie dropped the phone in mid-dial and followed.
They found Furry Thunderfoot at his desk, pen still in hand. His countenance was peaceful and his eyes were closed as if he'd drifted off while working on a sermon. Lorrie checked for breathing and pulse while Farley stood to one side. He'd known what the result would be before he'd reached the room.
"He is at peace now," Lorrie sighed.
She looked at the desk saw what might have been Furry's last words. With trembling paws she took up the paper. Her ears fell.
"Leave us for a moment," she whispered, "Close the door."
A puzzled Farley left her alone. She searched the desk drawers and found a small book. Her whiskers drooped as she read the glanced through it.
In obedience to Furry's written request she searched for and found a secret compartment with a telephone she hadn't known existed. Carefully following the book's instructions she dialed the number.
A voice with a vague Asian accent answered. "Talk to me, Hudson."
She looked up the counter response. "It's just us chickens."
There was a pause at the other end and Lorrie trembled at the static.
"Hello. I take it this is Lorrie Whitetail and that Furry Thunderfoot is dead."
"Yes. And yes."
Another pause. "My condolences."
"Phong?" she whispered.
"At your service, madam."
"Les," Marsha said as she poked her food, "What do you call this?"
Les looked at her with surprise. "Curried chicken. Isn't that obvious?"
"So where's the curry?" The woman sighed. "Next time, let me cook."
"After that garlic chicken of yours?" Gina chuckled, "Not on your life."
"Wimps."
The phone rang.
"I'll get it," Marsha said as she removed her napkin. "It's probably that new guy at work."
She picked up the phone. "Yeah?"
She listened with a puzzled look on her face. "Les? There's someone claiming to be your sister on the line."
Les jumped out of his seat and grabbed the phone. "Hello, Heather? Yes. Yes, it's me. Are you all right? You don't sound good."
His face paled. "No... no. Oh Heather I'm so sorry."
Tears came to his eyes. "Yes, of course I'll meet you. Yes, I'm just down the street from there. Yes. I'm leaving right now."
He put down the phone and looked at the two women.
"It was my sister. The conversion..." he wiped the moisture from his face. "It's gone wrong. She's dying. I have to go see her."
Gina and Marsha deserted their dinners.
"We're coming with you."
"Got that right."
"No," Les held up a hand as he reached for his jacket. "She said alone."
"Where?" Gina demanded.
"The cemetery. Right where the squirrels told us the opening was."
He pointed a hasty finger at them. "You two stay here! That's an order!"
He dashed out of the room before either could protest. They both heard the car start up and roar away.
"He took the Rustmobile," Marsha muttered as she looked at Gina. "It's only five blocks to the cemetery. How fast can you run it?"
"Faster than you can, old woman."
They bolted for the door.
The Floral Avenue Cemetery dates back nearly a hundred years and sits these days surrounded by middle class housing. Several blocks long and wide, it's an island of quiet in the middle of a large town. Along with mourners and those who remember the dead, it is often frequented by joggers and people walking their dogs.
Right now it was deserted except for a rusty Cavalier which rattled down the broken pavement to come to a stop before a small mausoleum.
Les jumped out and looked frantically around.
"Heather? Heather? Are you here?"
"Dougie? Dougie?" A bunny came slowly out from around the tomb. "Is that you? I... I can't see very well."
"Heather?" Les sobbed.
He hurried over to the bunny. "Is that you? I've never seen you... like this... before. Oh god."
"Dougie, oh Dougie," the bunny said, "I was so wrong, so wrong! I never should have gone through with this."
Les knelt down before the bunny. "Are you in any pain? You don't sound... "
"Terrible pain... terrible." She nosed his hand and he gently stroked her fur. "I had to see my Big Brother one more time... just one more time."
"Is there anything... anything I can do?"
"Hold me... hold me, Dougie?"
"Oh Heather," Les gently picked up the bunny. "I'm sorry, I'm so... ouch!"
He dropped the bunny in alarm. It was holding a syringe.
"Don't worry," it said with a <soothingfluff>, "It'll just put you to sleep. But soon you'll be re-united with your sister."
"My sister? You're... you're not my sister!" He staggered on unsteady legs as the drugs hit him. "What... have you done... to my sister?"
His legs folded underneath him and he crumpled to the ground. As consciousness fled he felt things swarming over him.
They bit him repeatedly.
Farley scampered to Thunderfoot's room and rushed in without knocking.
"Lorrie! We've got a problem."
Her angry look stopped him in his tracks. But she was also frightened, more frightened than he'd ever seen her. And where had that telephone come from?
"I'll call you later," she said into the phone. "Yes. I will. We must talk."
She paused. "Frith be with you."
She hung up the phone and put it away. She looked at Farley with the intensity of a laser beam. "Do not speak of what you've seen," she commanded. "What's the problem?"
"Somebunny's broken into the medical lab and stolen blood cultures... the ones with the virus in them... and some syringes."
Lorrie knocked him over as she pelted back to her office. A secbun was waiting for her. "Ma'am, we've had an unauthorized exit..."
"Find the newcomer Heather!" she barked.
"... and an unauthorized communication. Should I send the guardbuns Above?"
"Yes... NO!" she commanded. "If Heather's called her brother..." She looked at Farley with a pained expression. "I'll go above."
She drew in a breath. "If what I think has happened, I don't this fluffed up."
Fleet-footed in her sneakers, Gina dashed into the cemetery, baseball bat in hand. She made a bee line directly up the small knoll to where Les's car sat with its door ajar. A movement among the gravestones caught her eye.
"We'll need more stuffies!" She heard a voice say as she came around the mausoleum.
Four devilbunnies crowded around the Les's motionless body. Two were putting ky00t plush animals around him while the other two were fluffing away, sending wave upon wave of ky00tons across the human's body.
Gina saw red. "A-YEYEYEYEYEYEYEYEYEYEYEYEYEE!"
Like a cricket player gone mad, she struck the first bunny. It flew high into the air and landed in a twisted mass of broken bones. The second had enough time to look up in horror as she swung the bat low. Its head landed a respectable distance away, while its body crumpled on the spot.
"Run!" one of the bunnies screamed. The two remaining buns disappeared behind a headstone.
"You won't get away!" Gina cried as she leaped over the headstone. There she came face to face with a pure white devilbunny.
She wound up to hit another home run.
<*FLUFF*> "No," the bunny said calmly. <*POOFLE*>
Gina staggered back from the ky00ton attack.
"We didn't intend this to happen," <fluff>. "This was done without our knowledge or permission."
Gina stared slack-jawed at the bunny.
<poofle> "We shall seek those did this and see that they are punished for breaking the Peace." <puff>
The bunny looked past the immobile Fudd and drooped her ears in dismay.
The sound came first - the roaring of machinery in high gear.
Then it appeared over the lip of the knoll.
Like something out of the Apocalypse Marsha came on her motorcycle, Les's armored trench coat flapping wildly. In one hand she carried a hatchet while with the other she expertly steered the bike.
The blade was swung inaccurately and Lorrie jumped away as the motorcycle zoomed past.
"NO!" she screamed. "NO! WE ARE PEACEFUL BUNNIES!"
The motorcycle made a skidding turn between two crumbling gravestones and came back for another run. The rider seemed in no mood to chat.
Lorrie bounded into the open burrow entrance and closed it, leaving no trace of its existence.
Marsha halted the bike in front of the still prone Les.
"Gina! Help me get him into the car!"
"Pretty bunny," Gina mumbled. "Where'd pretty bunny go?"
"Oh fsck!" Marsha jumped off her bike, reached into Les's trenchcoat and unwrapped one of his infamous sourballs. She popped it into Gina's slack mouth.
Gina gagged and spat it out.
"What the..." she looked around. "Ooooh - how's Les?"
"Breathing," Marsha said tersely as she knelt over him. "Help me get him into the car."
The plushies and a syringe fell to the ground as they lifted him.
"You drive him home," Marsha said darkly, "I'll get the syringe."
"I couldn't stop them," Heather wept, her fur matted where she'd been tied up. "There were too many..."
Lorrie Whitetail sighed. "It's not your fault. Please, take comfort in that."
"But Dougie... oh my poor Dougie..." <distressedfluff>. "I never would have forced this on him. And if he's in the Fudd's hands... he could die!" she wailed.
"At the moment, the best we can do is pray for him."
Lorrie bunnyhugged Heather until her crying fit subsided. Then she nodded to the guards. "Take her to her burrow. Let her rest."
Lorrie put her paws together to center herself and meditate. The ones involved - or rather, the survivors - had been rounded up and were under lock and key. Furry had trained her well, had chosen her to lead, but learning of Furry's secret pact with Phong and this attack on one of his Fudds had been a shock to her system. She needed to reach into the stillness of her Inner Ky00t to calm herself and lead her warren out of this mess.
The phone rang.
"I should get a secretary," she sighed, and picked up her office telephone.
"Lorrie Whitetail, how may I help you?"
"On white wings they come," said a voice flavored with the orient.
Lorrie nearly dropped the phone. "And... and, they flower in June," she recited the code phrase.
"Phong?" she whispered, "how did you get this number?"
"I have my ways."
"We have to talk," Lorrie gulped.
"Indeed, my furry friend. Choose your words... carefully."
"He's still feverish and sweating fiercely, so I gave him another booster shot," Marsha said grimly. "All we can do now is wait. Hopefully, the Fourier anti-bunnies should be strong enough to punch anything out."
Gina sat on her bed staring at the wall, her rosary beads hanging limp in her hands. "How soon will we know?"
"Hours... days at the most, Phong said. From the raised areas it looked like he's been injected at least five different times. If Phong's right, he may have five different strains running through him."
She gave Gina a concerned look. "What happened to you out there?"
"I don't know what happened to me," she whispered. "I just froze. With Les lying there, I just stood there agog. I've been fluffed at before, but nothing like this. I feel so ashamed."
"Thank goddess for Les's sourballs," Marsha murmured. "Go sit with him a while. He may not be conscious, but if he does awaken it would be best if someone was there for him."
"You okay?"
"Oh I'm just fine," Marsha said, wiping the moisture from her eyes. "I just have lousy luck with men."
Les wandered in the darkness, Grease Gun in hand.
He could hear the bunnies all around him, scampering through the shadows.
He could see them peering at him with their eyes.
He heard drums keep pounding rhythms to his brain.
A noise close by caused him to spin. But there was nothing there but the gray-red shadows.
He turned back and was faced by a horde of devilbunnies sitting on their hind legs.
"You'll soon be one of us!" they chanted, "You'll soon be one of us!"
"NOOOOOOO!" He shot blindly into the giggling mass of bunnies.
A shape... a human shape stepped out of the darkness.
"Come with me if you want to live."
It extended a hand to him.
He grabbed the hand and awoke in bed.
It wasn't his room and it wasn't his bed. "Where am I?"
Someone with a bulbous head and ridiculous hunting hat sat in a chair next to the bed. "You'we in-between, Mistew Matwix."
"Oh great," Les covered his face with a pillow. "I get attacked by bunnies and what comes? Cartoon characters. Who'll show up next? Donald Duck?"
"Oh no," the hunter lisped, "he's Disney - I'm with Wawnew Bwothews. Hahahahahaha."
"Fever dreams." Les took the pillow off his face and stared at the cartoon character. "I guess that means my body is fighting the virus."
"Cowwect! They just shot you up with so much stuff, it's taking a wittle time fow the battle to be decided."
Out of nowhere a bunny jumped onto the bed. "Hi there!" <bouncebounce> "I don't know why you're fighting!" <bouncebouncebounce> "Being a bunny so much more fun than being a nasty old human!" <bouncebouncebouncebounce>
"May I?" asked the cartoon raising his double-barreled shotgun.
"Be my guest."
There came a <bang!> and the bunny disappeared in a cloud of gun smoke.
"Got one!"
Another bunny appeared. "Yeah yeah," it groused, pulling its own ears fitfully. "It's great being a bunny. You can be tormented by squirrels..."
"Been there, done that," Les grumbled.
"... or toyed with by half-crazed mentats... "
Les sat up. "Excuse me Elmer, but I think there's a bottle of Moxie on the bedstand?"
"So thewe is! Hewe you awe Mistew Matwix."
"YEEWOOW!" the bunny screamed as the Les poured the Moxie on it. It melted away without a trace.
"Hmmm. Warm and flat. How about that?"
Still another bunny appeared on the bed. "You call that banter? It's so flaccid and limp I might as well be dead. Why back in the day..."
A tentacle slithered up and snatched the bunny away. A moment later there was a contented belch.
"Was that bunny wearing a dress?"
"I bewieve it was Mistew Matwix."
A rotund bunny wearing fashionable earbows hopped on his bed. "Really, appearing in dreams. This is like... so cliche..."
"Tentacles!" the two Fudds called out.
Another bun came to replace it. "You need some reading material. How about a catalog?"
Something furry and fanged leaped on it and they disappeared over the edge of the bed. The hat teetered on the edge only a moment before fading away.
"So, Elmer," Les asked, sitting up. "What am I to do with my sister? She's a bunny now."
"Why ask me? I'm a figment of you'we imagination. Hahahahaha."
"Great, I'm asking hallucinations for advice," Les muttered as he fell back onto the pillow.
The room began to rotate.
"Oh man, I hate spin dreams. Don't you El..." and he stopped and gaped.
It wasn't a cartoon character anymore, but a grizzled and scarred man. Part of his face had been torn and the scarring had twisted his jaw. His smile was horrible to see.
"Be vewy vewy caweful Mistew Matwix, when dealing with wabbits."
Les gripped the bed, to no avail. The Spin Monster was upon him and it sucked him down... down...
Light. Ceiling. Needs a bit of plaster work.
Les blinked. He was back in his own room. He turned his head to see Marsha sitting on a chair next to the bed, head bowed.
"Hey," he croaked.
She looked up at him, eyes wide. "You're awake!" she cried.
Her hug was bone-crushing. "Gik. Ack."
"Are you all right?" she asked, touching his face.
"Drink. Water would be good."
She looked relieved. "Water it is."
"Moxie first," he muttered.
She looked surprised but hurried to bring him some.
He sipped weakly at the glass of Moxie. "Gack. What an aftertaste. Don't know how you can drink the stuff."
Marsha grinned at him looking greatly relieved. "Wimp," she teased, handing him a glass of water.
Gina arrived with Leftie hot on her trail.
"So the dead rises," Gina remarked.
"And you're not a bunny!" Leftie chittered happily.
"God, I had the strangest dream," he said between sips. "Met Elmer Fudd." He shuddered. "Weird. And I poured Moxie all over a bunny that was on my bed. Warm, flat Moxie."
The two woman glanced at each other. "You leaked," Gina said wrinkling her nose.
Les reddened. "I wanted a new mattress anyway."
"You need one now," Marsha snorted. "Lucky the both of us were here to change you."
Les reddened again. "Well. Thank you. Now - to business. I say Phong's treaty be damned."
"Nuke 'em from orbit," Marsha said dryly, "It's the only way to be sure."
"Phong's in negotiations..." Gina started.
"Negotiations be damned!" Les sputtered.
A fervent gleam came to his eye. "I want vengeance. An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth."
I must go, Lorrie Whitetail told the warren council, and I must go alone.
If I fail, she said, you must pick a new leader. She left them with the procedures to follow and bade them farewell.
To Farley she entrusted the darkest secret of her warren: that their leader had not only bargained with a Fudd, but had constant contacts with him. There was no telling what secrets had passed between them.
As she hopped to the graveyard entrance she reflected on her warren's history. Years ago, Furry Thunderfoot had faced a Fudd and made the deal with him that gave the warren peace and life. She could only hope that she could do what he'd done decades ago and keep the peace.
The Fudds were waiting for her: Stick, Bone and Matrix. Those were their Fudd names, their Agent names. Yet she knew one by his real name and greeted him so.
"Douglas, I beg of you a moment that I may speak to you."
A pale Les gave a shrug.
"Go ahead," he moved the sourball about in his mouth. "It's your nickel."
"First, let me assure you that your sister had nothing to do with the attack on you."
He looked relieved, so she pressed on.
"Second, I swear to you that the attack was made by newcomers who violated both the law and the spirit of this warren by committing an overt act of violence. They will be punished and, if necessary, turned over to you for final justice."
Les cocked his head. "_You are the warren leader. _You are responsible for the actions of your people. I don't care what you do with those that attacked me - it's you I care about. If you want to keep the Peace between us, I want vengeance. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth."
He placed a small case on the ground and pushed it towards her with his steel-toed boot. "This is for you."
Cautiously she opened the case. Inside was a loaded syringe.
"Sybilvirus," Les said. "Do you understand?"
Lorrie felt her gut twist.
"To save my warren," she said slowly, "I am to inject this... disease into myself? Is that what you want?"
"An eye for an eye."
"We will make sure that you are delivered to Doomwarren," Stick said, "if you survive."
Bone nodded. "We have quarters available for the transition. You will be kept away from your warren. No others need be infected."
Lorrie's head swam. Doomwarren. Sybilvirus. To become a monster, diseased, a cannibal. It was too much to ask.
"Please... Douglas..."
"Matrix."
"Matrix, we have kept the Peace for decades. Even before the signing of the Great Agreement we embraced non-violence. Do not let this single event..."
"You could have killed me!" Matrix spat. "I was lured here under false pretenses and injected with a deadly disease! And I take that rather *personally*."
"It was done against our policy," Lorrie replied. "Can't you see that?"
"All I see is a lying, scheming group of rodents who took my sister from me and then tried to poison me!" Matrix said between his teeth. "Your warren busted the treaty. We are on the brink of war. But I'm giving your people an out. You must make a decision. Will it be a one for one? One eye for one eye - or total war?"
"It's _not one for one," Lorrie argued. "Your people have a vaccine against the bunnyvirus. We have none against this poison. If I take this, I will certainly end up dead, or worse."
She gave him a pleading look. "My warren is all that matters. But - Frith forgive me! I cannot do this. I tell you, there must be another way!" <stomp!>
"You know what we're capable of," Matrix said remorselessly, "Unless you do this, it will be war. And your warren will _cease to _exist."
She picked up the syringe in trembling paws. What evil lurked within that clear fluid? To do this would be against everything she ever believed in.
Except for her duty to the warren.
Of all the bunnies in her warren, Furry Thunderfoot had picked her to be their leader. He'd chosen her for her intelligence, her depth of Fluffiness ... but most of all for her ability to make hard choices.
She beseeched Matrix one last time. "Please..."
"No. This is the only way for your warren."
It took every bit of self-control that she had to inject herself with the fluid. Then she carefully put it back in the case, least another bunny share her fate.
"It is done," she said, bowing her head. Her life was over but her warren would live. As Furry had, so had she saved her people.
But the price... the price was high. Her ears drooped low. "When will it begin?"
Les picked up the case. He smiled faintly. "It won't. It was sterile water. Because an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth leaves the world blind and toothless."
Lorrie stared in disbelief. Such wisdom from... a Fudd? How could it be? Her confusion was even greater than her relief.
"Go in peace," Matrix said. "The treaty remains intact. You will not speak of any of this to the other warrens."
"That is agreeable," she responded faintly.
"And you *will* take care of my sister, won't you?"
It was not a question.
"Of course, of course," she managed.
She looked up at him. "She still loves you very much."
"As I love her," he said softly.
Lorrie sat in Furry's old room, talking quietly on the secret phone.
"I don't know if you had any influence on your young Fudd, but I'm grateful that the Peace is still intact."
"I did speak at length to young Matrix," the voice on the other end replied. "I managed to persuade him to see reason."
"Frith bless you."
Phong chuckled. "So, is our arrangement still a secret?"
"Only one other knows and I trust him to remain silent."
"Good. We'll speak again, very soon."
Lorrie trembled as she hung up the phone. "Am I a traitor to my race?" she asked the darkness. "Have I sold out my race to save my insignificant warren?"
*****
Gina sat idly fingering her rosary beads. Once she had had faith in her family, but then her father had thrown her out. Once she had had faith in her church, but the she had realized she was an outcast. Once she had had faith in herself, but then she had stood by in limp inaction when hit by a powerful blast of kyytons. She wondered now if her faith meant anything at all.
She fought off the malaise. Maybe she had lost pieces of her faith; but she had gained wisdom from the experience.
"Next time I'm taking sourballs along," she murmured.
*****
Heather sat by the phone. "Please Dougie," she <poofled> in distress, "Please call me. I love you. I *miss* you. Please call."
*****
Les looked again at the small piece of paper with his sister's phone number on it. He reached for a glass of beer.
"This is the first drink I've had since... since I found out about my sister. If I'm going to fall off the wagon at least I don't have too far to fall."
"And you'll have company," Marsha said as the clinked glasses.
"Cheers."
"Are you going to call your sister?" Marsha asked while she sipped her drink.
Les downed half of his beer in one gulp.
"Not now. No." He rubbed the cool glass against his forehead. "Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow night I will. I must. She's my sister, isn't she?"
"She's a bunny, isn't she?"
"That too." He drained his glass.
"You going to be okay?" Marsha touched his hand. "You look about ready to cry again."
"I've done enough crying. Enough running. I'm tired."
"Rest," Marsha said. "You've taken quite a shock to your system and need a rest."
She sipped her beer thoughtfully. "I guess it's how you react after the shock that counts. Do you give up or go on? And go on how?"
Les reached to pour himself another glass but stopped halfway.
"One day at a time," he said, settling back into his seat. "One day at a time."
Author's notes.
This one poured out of me like water. Although many parts of it were planned a long time ago, the final product took a relatively short time to push out. The ending took some work to get it right. I'm very proud of the entire project.
Even the 'commercials'.
Thanks again to my editor Kylinn who keeps making me do it over until I get it right.
-JennyM
Originally published on alt.devilbunnies June 6 - June 25, 2003.