The Ones We Save

   “I can’t say I care about what your protocol dictates, all I know is that if the Mayor has a single scratch on his head, then, he’ll have yours on a stake!” Vulpecula yelled, raising his voice toward the (insert name) Police Department’s finest. 

   This was the branch of Urgway’s law enforcement most commonly used by Mayor Barker, and that much was obvious, the way they reacted to The Fox’s hollow threats, it almost made him think they took it literal. 

   “Where has the Mayor been taken exactly? What did the man tell you? Who is this man?” One of the officers, the Lieutenant, in-fact, a burly dog named Sebastian Holt. Duke, one of Sanec Barker’s key-men, it seemed, was also present and concerned. 

   “His name is Logan Norms and he’s responsible for the murders happening throughout Acera, as well as the more-recent murder here in Urgway,” Vulpecula explained, anticipating the skepticism from the men. 

   “I always hated him,” The Lieutenant fired back, “Always struck me as up to no-good, but I never would have expected all this.” 

   “Can’t say I’m surprised. Logan does anything to have everyone read his tabloids, the whole lot of them are likely crazy, tell you the truth,” Duke concurred. 

   Ones’ willingness to have an open-mind gained traction when perpetuated by bias, it seemed. The newspapers, including The Rescue Tribune, was met with a scathing reception by the canine community, mostly because its casual animalism and the stained reputation against canines it did nothing to repair. Logan Norms was the worst among the bunch. The hateful way he spewed at them made him all too easy to hate with an unwavering passion. 

   “The address he offered me was 317 Heyman Ave., but when I went there myself, I found that it brought me to a flower shop. Logan is toying with me in the belief that I’ll rattle and play recklessly, but his perception of me is gauged from years old stories and I’m able to see the larger picture now,” Vulpecula explained. “That’s why I will call Logan Norms myself and have you trace the phone call. He won’t expect me to involve the rest of you, and that, I have to believe, will be his downfall.” 

   Vulpecula did his best to come off as calm and collected. It’s what Sanec Barker would have done, after all. One more friend was in harms way, and it was up to him to save them. He had an idea in mind, but was it the best? Could he truly predict the behavior of someone as unhinged as Logan Norms?  

   Vulpecula waited for the officers to nod their heads in agreement and ready the equipment before he made the phone-call. He had to believe Logan Norms wouldn’t ignore the call in spite of his own better judgment. Logan was in the falling stage of his cyclic ritual. He wasn’t reaching for ledges or trying to soften the landing, Logan had to know the impact would happen soon. The phone rang for a few seconds. But, a man with nothing to lose was dangerous. A person nearing their end couldn’t be bought or negotiated with, and that meant, for all Vulpecula knew, Sanec Barker could already have been dead. 

   “Did you go to the address I told you?” Logan Norms asked. His voice shook, ranging from extreme highs to extreme lows, a playfulness that said he felt far too amused with himself. This was nowhere near how Logan Norms normally sounded. Either this was how he was with his victims or something had forever flipped in his psyche. Vulpecula wasn’t certain which truth was better. 

   “I did. It was a flower shop.” 

   “I would suggest roses. I’ve always loved the color red,” Logan professed, offering a small laugh. 

   At first, Vulpecula said nothing in-response. It was difficult for him to enter Logan’s head space. He had never dealt with someone so sporadic and imbalanced. “So, where are you actually at, Logan?” Vulpecula added emphasis on his name, thinking it might tether him to some form of reality. 

   “I’m at the factory, you’ve heard of it, Tyson & Son’s? I wanted do something special for Sanec Barker and I needed certain somethings to do it,” Logan explained. 

   If Logan Norms was to be believed, Tyson & Son’s would have been a logical enough location. As an automotive manufacturer, they would have access to tar, as well, which Vulpecula assumed Logan was hinting at. Vulpecula looked over to Lieutenant Holt, who nodded his head. They had traced the call, it seemed. “He’s not lying, he’s there.” 

   “I’m on my way, Logan,” Vulpecula answered, and in barely a moment’s time, he heard the line go dead. 

   Vulpecula looked over to the officers in-front of him. “You heard him. That’s where you need to be. Your mayor is being held hostage by a murderous madman at the Tyson & Son’s automotive factory. I don’t suspect it becomes bigger than this.” 

   “You’re not coming with us then?” Duke asked, seeming confused. 

   “No, you’re what Sanec Barker needs right now and I’m not,” Vulpecula answered. He couldn’t be responsible for screwing up Mayor Barker’s rescue. “I’ll be watching my phone ready to tell you if any new information arises.” 

2. 

   The cavalry was on their way to Sanec’s rescue. Even officers from some other districts were headed toward Tyson & Son’s. For Lieutenant Holt’s men, the trip would set them back a couple of hours, which allowed district officers to find rooftops and vantage points to see into the factory. The instruction was shoot first and ask forgiveness later. If Logan Norms was in their line of sight and wasn’t holding a knife to the mayor’s throat, he’d be a dead man. Vulpecula fidgeted with the fur on his chin as a half-hour escaped him. It would be a matter of time now. 

   Newsman had already publicized the information about Logan Norms’ criminal involvement, due likely to a rookie officer leaking the information to the press. Information about the mayor’s kidnapping was also making headlines as well. This meant if Logan had access to a television, he would have known by now that The Fox Detective had went to law-enforcement. Vulpecula was at least grateful no one had leaked Logan’s whereabouts, so, at least that much wasn’t compromised for clicks on a website. 

   Vulpecula heard his cellphone vibrate and looked at his phone, sure enough, it was Logan Norms calling him. The Fox Detective took in a breath and let it leave him, then, answered, “What is it? I’m on my way as we speak.” 

   “No, you’re not. You’re at the police station. No worries though, I’m a liar too.” 

   “Oh,” Vulpecula said, for lack of a more eloquent reaction. “Where are you then?” 

   “I’ve heard all these stories about you. I heard stories that you could step into anyone’s shoes and think like them. Tell me then, where am I? I knew you’d send for the policeman and I knew you’d trace my phone-call. Cellphones encrypted with The Shock’s software will you wherever I want, however,” Logan explained. “I won’t entertain you any longer. I know where you are and I know how long it takes to reach where I am. Step into my shoes, Fox Detective. What does your special chalkboard say about me? You have only an hour. If you’re not here, I cut off the mayor’s head. If I find that you’ve informed anyone else, I cut off the mayor’s head. That’s it.” 

   Click. 

   Like that, Vulpecula’s connection to Logan Norms ceased, as did all his options. What awaited him was the unknown. What did Logan Norms have planned for them. The only thing The Fox Detective could be certain of was that Norms wouldn’t allow him and Sanec Barker to walk out of wherever he’d taken him. Only a fool would believe Logan Norms’ sincerity. And, yet, playing the role before him, V had no choice than to enter Logan’s trap and hope for the best. There wasn’t time for anything else, not when he had so little certainty of Logan’s hideout. 

   Where would Logan Norms take Sanec Barker? As Vulpecula stepped out of the police station and entered his rental vehicle, he chewed on the thought a moment. He reflected over all the thoughts he’d kept about Logan in his blank chalkboard, of which, he had allocated a lot. Logan was the journalist who covered his own crimes. Like the black-tarred man in-front of an onyx backdrop, Logan Norms was the man who hid in plain sight. In this circumstance, where would that be? 

   As Vulpecula started his car and started his way down the highway, he was fueled only by assumption and faith. If he was wrong, then he likely wouldn’t have time for a second guess. Sanec Barker would be one more friend of his that died because he was too stupid to save him. Vulpecula sped onward, in his rear-view, he could see the black-tarred man staring back at him. “You’d better buckle up,” Vulpecula said aloud to himself for no one’s benefit except his own. 

   The steering wheel rattled from how his paws shook, but he fought beyond his anxieties the best he could. Soon, the time came, and he arrive at his best guess – it was Mayor Barker’s office. He could have been off. It could have been somewhere else entirely. It could have been the headquarters of some news station that Logan Norms reported for, or somewhere altogether different. Vulpecula crept out of the vehicle and made his way up the building, ignoring the walking stick in his hands and, instead, embracing the pain as he bolted up the concrete stairs. 

   As Vulpecula walked into Mayor Barker’s office, he felt a chill run over the back of his neck. So many emotions radiated through him. In the back of his mind, he heard a distant scream, but couldn’t pinpoint its origins. An auditory hallucination, for certain, but whose was it? Could it have been Nicholas Myers’ as the fire ranged on and engulfed him or was it a victim of The Canis Majors copycat killer? Or was it a scream he hadn’t heard? Like his mother’s when she was killed? So many ghosts accompanied him into Barker’s office that it was difficult to keep track of them all, Vulpecula pressed on. 

   As Vulpecula left the elevator, he was not surprised to see Logan Norms staring back at him, aiming a handgun in his direction. “You’re late, Detective.” 

   Vulpecula made no elaborate movement. He merely held Logan’s stare while, at the same time, trying to see if he could find Sanec Barker’s whereabouts. “Must have a different timezone,” Vulpecula replied dryly. 

   “It’s a shame,” Logan confessed. “I cut off Sanec’s head and shoved it on the rooftop’s flagpole.” 

   “You’re lying,” Vulpecula mumbled, then, in a moment, became more assertive, “You’re lying!” 

   “I’m afraid not,” Logan replied, trying and failing at remorse, “Now he’s a martyr for what was and can never be again. Mutts shouldn’t be allowed in political office, fox. They’re only up to no-good.” 

   “Sanec Barker was different.” 

   “Was he? Mutts aren’t like any of us. Sanec would have brought us back to exactly where we were before your Hensley Noel founded Rescue, would you have really wanted that?” 

   “Maybe,” Vulpecula admitted. His anger had him spiraling, “Maybe then, it could be brought down the right way. Not the way my father did.” 

   “Fathers,” Logan sighed. “Sanec’s father founded The Canes and your father ended it. You were natural enemies.” 

   “We aren’t bound by our father’s decisions.” 

   “You might not have been, but mutts are different. They’re ravenous and hateful. Had Sanec really ever let-go of his father? His first-name is a direct homage to it.” 

   “Wanting better doesn’t mean forgetting where you came from. He took a weakness and made it a strength.” 

   “Like I took his head and made it a flag?” Logan jested, offering a sly smile as he aimed the gun at Vulpecula. “Bang!” He yelled, pulling the trigger. 

   The handgun went off, but a bullet wasn’t freed from the chamber. Instead, in cartoon-fashion, a small flag with the letters “Bang!” shot out, drawing laughter from Logan. Vulpecula hands shook with danger as the monster stared back at him. Without a second’s thought, Vulpecula swung his walking stick at him. The weapon didn’t break; a gift that was steady and reinforced. As Logan fell to the ground, Vulpecula’s remained determined. For every murder that Logan had committed and for all his cruelty, Vulpecula brought the weapon back again and swung, hitting Logan over the head with the steel handle. 

   “I’ve never felt closer to you!” Logan hollered out, sounding overjoyed and even amused by the assault. 

   In rapid repetition, Vulpecula beat Logan with the stick, again and again, until, at last, Logan no longer laughed; left lying in a heap of his own blood. 

   Vulpecula dropped to his knees as the anger fled his body; tears poured down his face. “I’m so sorry,” he said to himself, a statement he made for his own benefit, as the dead weren’t around to hear it. 

   “You did what was right,” A voice called out. It was Sanec Barker from the hallway. His suit was stained with blood and his tie was frayed. Sanec walked to him with a limp. “I owe you a deal of debt.” 

3. 

   Mayor Barker’s injuries were thankfully superficial. Unlike Detective Psitticus, who remained hospitalized, Mayor Barker went mostly fine, all set for an upcoming press conference. Vulpecula was relieved, but conflicted. Logan Norms was outed as The Mass Media Murderer, a name attributed because his connection to journalism. The way they glamorized him meant he had what he got what he wanted in the end. In something of poetic justice, however, his hatred of the “mutts,” and Sanec Barker, backfired. Sanec Barker’s approval rating was through the roof, recognized as a rightful hero and the future of Maharris. Vulpecula looked forward to seeing him again shortly.  

   Logan Norms’ death weighed heavily on Vulpecula’s conscience. Although it was deemed “brave” and “courageous” to end the serial-killer’s life, he couldn’t help but feel he crossed a line he couldn’t uncross. If nothing else, he was happy he chose the right time to do it. 

   Lacerta hugged him in an embrace that Vulpecula reciprocated. Lacerta had heard the gist of what had happened, but chose not to prod him about it. Vulpecula appreciated as much. 

   The calendar year would wrap-up neat and cozy, as so few things did these days, but, all wasn’t lost. The doorbell rang, drawing a smile from Lacerta. 

   “Apus,” He said, “Always up til late and awake in the afternoon. 

   Lacerta chuckled, walking away from Vulpecula and over to the front-door. Vulpecula nodded his head and smiled, looking around at Lacerta’s apartment. His living space had migrated since the last time he’d visited. His new apartment was more spacious than his last, but the way he decorated and furnished his quarters remained largely the same. Vulpecula felt happy for him, for lack of a more emphatic word. Even now, he couldn’t say for certain what his own bedroom looked like, with most of the boxes still packed and taped shut. It may not have been something that he could do, but he was happy that Lacerta had been able to find a semblance of normalcy. 

   “Hopefully he brought the Watergate salad,” Vulpecula yammered for good-humored ribbing, not caring about the salad in the slightest. 

   Soon, Lacerta returned to him, not accompanied by Apus’ presence, but carrying a small red box, dolled up by a leafy-green ribbon. 

   “It’s addressed to you,” Lacerta commented, handing him the box. “You must have a secret admirer.” 

   Vulpecula shrugged his shoulders and took the box in his hands, running through the list of names that might’ve cared to send something to him. Could it have been the woman he’d met at the market what felt like a lifetime ago? He stared at the box for a second. It was small and he could hear the faint rattle of something shaking inside, like a necklace, or a ring, or some other small-piece of jewelry. It was about the size of a theater box of candy.  

   As his eyes went over to Lacerta’s, it was clear that he too was interested in the box’s contents, and Vulpecula hadn’t cared to keep him in suspense. He tugged at the ribbon’s string and freed it from the knot. Then, opened the lid off. 

   Inside the box rested a pair of talons – Apus’ talons.