Something That Matters: Part Three

Vanessa Doermuth by Gamesfan

>School slugs on by

>You and the gang are the only ones who seem to be in any kind of a hurry

>You spend your class time pacing madly outside of whatever classroom Sam is in

>Your GPA can take the hit, you figure

>Every fifteen minutes, you stick your head inside Sam’s classroom, and identify the little rabbit (who may or may not shyly wave at you) in the corner near the window

>You always catch him in the same corner, too, scribbling mindlessly or staring out the nearby windows, watching oak and aspen leaves peel like flower petals

>As always, Sam is an island – if there’s a desk to spare, it’s usually the one that’s next to Sam

>You know you shouldn’t let your feelings get involved, but it cuts you to see him so isolated and forgotten about

>The kid everyone gave up on…

>…doodling his troubles into faux super villains; an evil the he can undo with the simple act of flipping his pencil and applying the eraser to what hurts

>Sam, however, never erases his drawings

>Whether or not the bunny realizes this for himself, he’s making a powerful choice by not shutting out evil

>Instead, he concocts these heroes – Anon the Brave, Samurai Outlaw, Slayer – and a whole cast of others, to meet heartache and violence at the very fringes of this city by the light divided

>Somehow, good and beauty always find a way to win

>The causality of life, the odds of success, and the inherit feasibility of Sam’s plot lines all fade into background noise

>Becoming a super hero’s theme

>The school system doesn’t care if Sam can draw like the old masters

>How the hell this guy makes any passing grades is beyond you

>Right now, you feel like a helicopter parent

>Not only does Sam not seem to pay attention in class, school is a small priority for him all together

>Still, if you traded places with Sam – you, thrust into an abusive, broken home – school would rank pretty low on your investments as well

>Speaking of abusive and broken, you’ve thought a lot about Sam’s dad today

>You ought to consider yourself lucky that he hasn’t shown his face around Ranchview High

>Mike and Alex – both on synchronized ‘bathroom breaks’ make passes down the halls every so often to drop off reports and sightings of the goths or Sam’s dad

>Nothing to report so far, so you pass along bits of your group’s next moves like a secret, playing a game of telephone with perhaps two of the worst teammate to ever pick up the receiver

>Over the hours you stitch together a loose plan:

>Go to your house after school, grab some clothes, blankets, and other supplies…

>…bathe, if you can…

>And return to the old church for another night

>You like this plan, because it takes you and Sam far away from the general student body

>Jenna refused to cut class to see you, and soon Mike stops making the rounds

>Just Alex

>And then, not even him

>Over the course of the day, you watched Ranchview become embroiled in clique wars

>The violence has only escalated from Monday

>Dramatically so

>This morning, you witnessed a group of poindexters scale down from the ceiling tiles above the second floor

>You watched in sheer awe as they plucked a short haired tabby named Andrew Tullen right from the safety of his group

>The whole thing reminded you of watching videos of special forces from around the world

>For a few seconds there was the clang and bang of struggle within the HVAC, the occasional warning hiss

>A few moments after that, the tortured shrieks of Andrew Tullen carried through the school’s vents like a ghostly wail

>You were close enough to the ‘extraction’ to hear the dependable shriek of a dental drill tearing into bone and flesh, clamoring above you

>For a few minutes after, the sheer violence the nerds displayed brought an uneasy peace between the social cliques…

>…until two theater kids made the mistake of walking past a group of preps, vibrating with the hormonal need to fight

>Like two gears working against one another, the petty squabble exploded into a firestorm of flying fur, ripped flesh, bruises, and whatever the hell happened to Andrew

>For all of the above reasons, you try to stay out of sight as you move with Sam from class to class

>Administrative staff and faculty scream past you and the bunny – sometimes carting unconscious students – on their way to address a record number of suspensions

>You huddle by the door to Sam’s last class of the day, waiting to snatch that rabbit out of the deluge of bodies

>The school bell finally kicks itself, opening up the proverbial floodgates

>Students pour out of their classrooms in impatient throngs

>The jostling of one black bear disturbs the positioning of a human, – a punk named Ryan

>Small roving skirmish breaks out as the hallways swell with people

>And you watch for Sam, like a spear fisher hunting over trafficked waters

>Finally, at the tail end of a great river of students leaving class, like the last drop of rain after a storm…

>…Sam is spit out into the mostly-empty hallway

>Your hand quickly find his own through the tangle of students

>He squeaks in surprise at first, and then, perhaps recognizing the familiar sturdiness of your pale features, he allows you to whisk him out of the rush

>You spin him in a pirouette and pull – hard – breaking for a small gap of light in the shuffle

>You burst through a beaver-dam of freshman, towing Sam like a ship headed for calmer, open ocean

>Sam evens up his pace so he’s at last marching besides you

>“Are you m-mad at me?” He says, out of breath. “Y-You’re moving s-s-so fast…”

>Before you can respond, you catch an ugly look from a group of prep kids – all of them anthros, and all of their designer clothes hanging off their bodies by thin, spun-in-Malaysia threads

>Products of a recent scrum, no doubt

“Get behind me, now,” you command

>Sam doesn’t hesitate in using you as cover

>The mob of preps slows to a crawl as they snore on by

“Go away. Go away. Go away,” you say in a desperate hiss, only to yourself

>Sam is still and silent, pressed into your back

>One of the girls – a spotted dalmatian – raises her designer sunglasses (worn indoors)

>Her eyes narrow into slits as she scents the air

>Fuck

>You take a huge step back, compressing Sam between your body and a bank of lockers

>The rabbit clatters against the cheap aluminum with a squeal of pain

>Then, this prep girl cackles with smug, almost juvenile laughter

>She whispers something to a weasel girl, who passes the message to the rest of the group

>The clod of students begins to move again, all of them howling with laughter, throwing obvious glances over their shoulders at you

>“WHORE!” The dalmatian yells, stacking her new social credit atop her once-in-one-piece Chanel bag

>The horde passes by you with only a few more hateful, mocking stares

>When they descend to the first floor, you stealthily lift an arm and give your own brand a try

>It smells like you need to SHOWER, but nothing else

>Jenna’s probably right, you sigh

>You might not be able to pick up on the stench of lust on you, but others can

>Sam decompresses from between you and the locker, looking like he was run through a clothes dryer

>His cheeks are scarlet with fever; a red undercurrent lurking beneath swaths of matted, chestnut-brown fur

“No, I’m not mad at you. Not at all,” you say to him as he gathers the contents of his spilled backpack. “ I’m concerned for you. It’s not safe for you to be alone right now, and I want to make sure you’re being safe. C’mon, take my hand again. We need to move.”

>You extend your palm to the rabbit

>This time, he doesn’t hesitate in slapping his palm into yours, soft little fingers weaving around your own

>You begin the long walk across the school

>To the parking lot, or death!

>Something’s not right with the rabbit

>If his body temperature is lightning, you’re the lightning rod (heh)

>In seconds your palm is a slippery mess, and you struggle to maintain tethering

>You’re like one of those old mercury thermometers, and someone’s holding a lighter beneath you

>While you absorb Sam’s feverish burn-off, Sam’s flustered breath and frustrated whining is starting to become obvious, even to you

>…

>Also, you think you heard him moan a little when you tightened your grip

>Well, it’s what you think his moan would sound like

>…is that gay to think about?

>It’s certainly a little queer that you’re still holding his hand as you march from one end of school to the other

>In light of that, you guide the bun down a small set of side stairs, deciding to approach the lot from the ground floor

>All you need to do is make it past the vagabonds, punks, and juvenile criminals that congregate in the lunchroom after school

>When you do make it to the lunchroom, you sneak a careful glance from around a corner, and scan who’s still left at school

>A few dozen students are left over, collected by tribal magnetism into huddles of like-minded, like-specied cliques

>Seems normal to you

>“C’mon, we’re almost out of here,” You say, hurrying the rabbit into the lunchroom, which has the closest access to the freedom of the parking lot

>The minute you and Sam set foot into the lunchroom, all commotion and conversation comes to a screeching halt

>Humans and anthros alike turn their vacant eyes onto you

>To them, you’re not just some human guy holding the paw of the class-pariah

>No

>To the doe sitting alone, at the table in the center of the room…

>…dressed in a black silk dress…

>…a funeral veil waving across her face like a dark phantom mask…

>…the smell of black coffee and cigarettes hugging her like perfume…

>…you and Sam are targets

>“Hello, Anonymous,” Vanessa says in an icy, even tone. “Hello, ‘Samantha.’ Rude of you to two to keep us all waiting.”

>Sam squirms anxiously in your grasp

>You tighten your hold, anchoring the poor rabbit to the space closest to you

>Guess you won’t be going through the lunch room…

>Vanessa steps up onto her table

>Every student in the room stands up in perfect synchronicity

>…or leaving through the lunch room, either

>Gone is Vanessa’s facade of the tragic high school student

>With a horde of zombie students at her command, she looks like a grand general, readying her troops for an assault

>“The book – and the bunny, if you please,” Vanessa says, coldly glaring at you. “Hand them both over to me – here and now – and I’ll let you live. Consider this my only offer.”

>Nobody moves, except Sam, using one hand to crush his ears

>Your mind reels, searching for a defiant statement to REALLY stamp your mark of rebellion on Vanessa’s armistice

>Nothing comes to mind

>Fear has a way of obliterating your creative thinking

>“Listen, you gloomy bitch,” Mike says, suddenly stepping beside you with all the clatter of a phantom

>You shake your head in disbelief

“Mike? Where the fuck did you come from?”

>Your short, pale friend carries on, as if he didn’t hear you

>“I don’t know about you or your little tardlings here, but I happen to have an acceptance letter to a school three states over. There were these pretty blonde girls on the college’s website, and-”

>Mike pauses to glance at you and Sam for a moment

>His focus diverts back to Vanessa, brows narrowed

>“-If you get your hands on the human or his rabbit boyfriend, you’re going to fuck up my shot with liberated, wealthy, wild, freshman girls!”

>Vanessa’s eyes roll; her body slackens from tense to annoyed

>“Oh joy, the turn-coat fledgling finally showed up,” Vanessa says, voice dry with sarcasm. “I thought I sensed you fluttering behind Anon a few minutes ago – stalking the innocent from the shadows like some kind of… vampire?”

>“SHUT UP!” Mike roars, fists clenched like an indignant toddler

>Vanessa throws gales of thick, mocking laughter out

>The zombie students – in perfect unison – add their own laughter to the choir

>You turn to Mike, confused and dismayed

“What the hell is she talking about?” You say. “I thought we were all meeting at my car?”

>“Extraction operation – Jenna’s idea. I hate to admit it, but that damn fox called this entire situation hours ago,” Mike says, pointing at Vanessa’s towering form. “Bambi over there is embarrassingly predictable. Jenna knew that if we left Anon and Sam alone, Vanessa’s mopey ass would make a move to capture them.”

>Vanessa is a mountain that Mike cannot move, however

>The grand reveal of her ‘plans’ doesn’t seem to have stopped her enthusiasm

>The doe stands firm, her silhouette nearly twelve feet high and rising

>“That’s a very cute theory, Mike. You do tell Jenna Orthorn I said ‘thank you,’ though.”

>“I’m not telling her SHIT for you!” Mike replies

>“But she’s delivered you alongside the boy and the bunny. I’ll have to thank her myself,” Vanessa says with hateful glee. “You’re painfully simple, Mike. I guess that’s why Lydia thought you’d be useful.”

>The doe snaps her fingers twice

>At Vanessa’s command, a water buffalo in ripped denim trundles himself in front of the exit to the parking lot, a dim mountain of mindless muscle

>The sharp chirp of Vanessa’s manicured fingers snapping off one another hits Sam’s pause button

>He lifts his head like a frightened prairie dog, his ears vibrating as if ran through with voltage

>Something you and Mike can’t hear – and can’t understand, as predator mammals yourselves

>“Turning you was a mistake, Sapone. I should have known Lydia didn’t have the strength to make you see reason. Now she’s gone and made a real pain in the ass for me out of our sweet little Michael Sapone,” Vanessa says, grinning with hate

>The doe centers her black glare at you, its weight fifty-pounds, compressing your chest

>“Final offer, ‘Nonny.’ The book, the bunny. Hand them over, or we will take them from you.”

>Before you can answer, Sam yanks urgently on your wrist like he’s ringing a bell

>“A-Anon…” he says, trying to maintain a frightened whisper, “…we should r-run. I h-hear someone…”

>His ears start to jitter like they’re telegraph wire, so he throws an uneasy glance over his shoulder

>The hallway behind you the three of you is suspiciously vacant

“Mike, you have an exit strategy, right?” You say in an urgent, low voice

>“Yeah. I’m supposed to get you out, and then Alex and Jenna pick us all up in your car. ‘You’ll hear three honks,’ or something, is what Jenna said” Mike says, a challenging stare fixed on Vanessa

>Your eyes bulge in panic

>You give Sam’s hand a tight squeeze

“Mike! I still have my keys! How are they going to pick me up in MY CAR without MY keys?”

>“I don’t know. Alex said he learned how to hot wire a car from a movie,” Mike says, now hearing the impossibility of the whole plan for the first time

>“ENOUGH!” Vanessa booms, voice swollen with rasping anger. “Anon, you need to keep more intelligent company. Not some meat-headed fledgling and some sixty-pound rabbit scared of her own shadow.”

>Her?

>What did Vanessa just say?

>“It’s laughable that you’d call me predictable, you know? You three morons strolled right into my trap – even holding hands so you won’t get separated. I love a package deal,” Vanessa smiles

>Sam looks over his shoulder, scanning the empty hallway for a source to put to that faint sound he picked up-

>Sam freezes up entirely

>His frightened, amber eyes split apart in panic

>And his hold on your hand becomes a death grip of fear

>You hear Sam choke out a simple word, buried under eighteen years of cowardice

>So gutless

>So scared

>Softer than bruised skin

>“D-Dodge…” he squeaks

>You can feel the rabbit’s body tensing up

“What?” You say to Sam, heart hammering

>“…d-d-dodge…”

>Vanessa’s fingers snap three times

>You swear you can hear something – like claws skittering off polished linoleum in a mad dash – but Vanessa draws your attention back onto her

>“Lydia’s judgment may have been clouded by her ambition, but she still has uses beyond persuasion,” the doe sneers on

>The scramble of long, feral claws claws scraping off the floor becomes a powerful echo in your skull

>“There is redemption within my ranks – and today, Penferth finds hers!” The doe’s cackles devolve into mad laughter

>You’re about to look behind you – probably the very last thing you’ll ever do – until Sam says something that stops you and Mike both

>“DODGE!” The rabbit shouts

https://youtu.be/eFg1AGuAGYA

>At the heralding trumpet of a lioness’ violent roar, you dive onto Sam, compressing the rabbit between your body and the lunchroom floor, still littered with food scraps

>Mike goes down, too, palms over the back of his neck

>A shadow passes over you three, like an airplane catastrophically low to the ground

>Orange body, black hair, black claws stretched before her as if trying to snare her prey, black shirt and jeans, and so many piercings that you’re worried one of the chains is going to snag Mike

>Lydia Penferth – Second in Command, makes her appearance

>The six-foot-four, two-hundred pound body of Lydia hums clean over your heads, a feral growl torn from her lips

>That triumphant roar becomes a panicked shriek in milliseconds

>Lydia crashes snout-first into the water buffalo standing by the exit

>Instead of potentially liberating you and your friends, the glass door bends inward, refusing to shatter open under the two mammal’s weight

>“Oh for fuck sake,” Vanessa groans loudly, eyes rolling back into their sockets

>She snaps her fingers four times, and shouts something that urges you onto your feet:

>“Swarm them!”

>The horde of students goes from resolute stillness to a wild, near-feral sprint at Vanessa’s command

>Sam – smothered into your chest – is too stunned to move off the floor

>Like a dead bug, all curled up

“C’mon! Get up!” You grab Sam by his shoulders and pull him to his feet, the rabbit still in a daze

>Then, from the other side of the school’s parking lot, the sound of a car horn blasting in three consecutive punches is heard

>The world’s ugliest Morse code

>“The north exit!” Mike shouts in dismay. “They’re on the wrong side of the fucking school!”

> In a blink, the guy who was supposed to rescue you takes off down the hall that you and Sam previously emerged from

>You and the rabbit bolt after your vampire comrade, a horde of mindless students – and one very disgraced lion – scrambling behind you

>You’re exhausted

>The hallway feels longer than before

>Or, you’re just out of shape

>At least you’re not dragging Sam behind you

>Perhaps unintentionally, Sam’s overclocked haunches churn like wheels

>The rabbit quickly overtakes Mike, much to the human’s embarrassment

>As if competing, Mike throws his body into sixth gear

>Panting and gasping for air, the horde only a few strides behind you, you watch Mike and Sam hang a left, and disappear around a bank of lockers

“Guys!” You shout, desperate, nearing panicked tears, “C’mon! Don’t fucking leave me here!”

>Mike’s disembodied voice reaches you

>“Keep running, gay boy! Run right through the door!”

>You hang the same left your companions took, shoes squealing off tile

>You see a short staircase leading upwards to the second floor

>And past the staircase, on the ground floor, is the school’s north exit – two glass doors feeding into the opposite ends of the student lot

>“O-Over here!” Sam squeaks, trying his best to hold one of the doors open from outside

>Mike – scowling in defeat, body glistening with sweat, chest heaving with exhaustion – holds the other door

>At least you know which of those two is the fastest

>It’s Sam

>You gun for the door

>The zombies snarl and moan behind you, a stampede of lifeless bodies

>Then, the heavy, rhythmic thump of Lydia Penferth leaping from all fours unlocks something primal in you

>The lioness cuts loose with an involuntary snarl

>You scream and will yourself to move faster

>Millions of years of evolution and generations of spearing Lydia’s ancestors inform your lizard brain that the lion girl is now airborne

>A missile of hate

>Coordinates: the back of your neck

>You scream all the way through the doors, still yelling as you tear out into the blinding afternoon, vision fried by the sunlight

>Sweat that gathers on your brow and slides down into your eyes

>Washed in golden afternoon light, with half its rusty frame parked on the curb, is your car

>Alex sits at the helm, smashing the horn again with urgency

>The back passenger door then swings open, and Jenna appears, frantically waving you in

>“Get in, get in!” Jenna shouts, terrified in the back seat. “Alex, throw it in gear!”

>Half of your body is already in the back when you stop

>You realized something

>Mike and Sam are still behind you

>“Alright Thumper, now!” Mike commands

>Sam squeaks in terror, but affirms Mike’s command

>The vampire and the rabbit push their bodies against the heavy glass doors, sealing the horde inside…

>…right as Lydia’s weighty body smashes through the barrier in a shrill staccato

>Metal twists and bends as the lion’s momentum carries her through the doors

>A crust of brittle glass accompanies Lydia on her journey to the other side

>The impact sends Mike and Sam flying backwards, hurling their bodies through the air

>The two skitter to a halt about halfway between the door and your car, flat on their faces; snow angels outlined in broken glass

>Lydia’s body skids across the pavement, momentum from the violence of her attack flatlining

>The lion’s body ends up in a crumpled heap…

>…right next to Sam

“SAM!” You shout, suddenly rising from your seat in the back

>The little rabbit’s body shudders at the sound of his name

>He gingerly peels himself from the from sidewalk, gravel and window glass scattered across his face like buckshot…

>…and then instantly goes back down on his face, a girlish squeal torn from his lips

>“If I can’t have the fledgling’s throat, I’ll take the bitch instead!” Lydia’s roars

>From her belly, with blood seething down her face and into her fur, Lydia wraps one massive paw around Sam’s leg, black claws anchoring her to the rabbit by skin alone

>One at a time, the horde of zombie students tries to squeeze its way over the bent, skeletal frames of the school doors, barely clinging onto their hinges

>You don’t have much time left

>Sam writhes and struggles as Lydia tries to pull herself up onto her own feet

>“H-Help!” Sam yells, paws scouring the chipped concrete for something to hold

>Shit

>You know that if you try and help Sam you risk capture by Lydia, putting you right back in the same situation as before

>Sam’s no match for Lydia…

>…unless he uses his legs

>Rabbits have crazy powerful lower bodies for a reason

“Kick her in the mouth, Sam!” You shout, desperate

>The rabbit…

>…on the verge of capture…

“Fight back! I know you can!”

>…struggling for his very life against a force far greater than him…

>…you watch as he locks up…

“Please…?”

>…his hold on the concrete dissipating…

>…until his fingers unlock, one by one from their purchase…

>…and Sam comes undone…

>…defeated

>Always waiting on someone to save him

>Always the liability

>Damnit, Sam

>Lydia smiles with all of her teeth, a satisfied growl rumbling inside of her

>She starts to pull herself up off of her belly-

>Mike’s shoe finds easy purchase beneath Lydia’s jaw as he strides – impatient and bloodied – into a one-hundred yard field goal attempt

>He drives his kick forward, up, and through Lydia’s skull…

>The sound of bones shattering is audible

>Lydia drops out of consciousness like Mike unplugged her

>…and the kick is good

>“C’mon, Thumper. No man left behind,” he grunts

>Mike grabs Sam by the back of his olive-green hoodie, and easily lifts the rabbit off the concrete, like he’s carrying a bag of groceries

>The vampire, in obvious pain, limps his way to the car

>“Here’s your delivery,” Mike says, unable to act cocky through the pain riveting his body

>He then deposits Sam’s limp body in your arms, right as the first of the zombies finds a way through the door

“Sam?” You say, almost in disbelief, gravity and exhaustion pushing your body down into the backseat

>Wow

>Sam… Sam is really light

>Jenna reaches over the two of you and slams your door shut

>Mike jumps in shotgun

“Sam?” You whisper, still holding him across your lap. “Say something to me. Please?”

>Your car begins to move, Alex at the wheel

>But right now, you don’t care

>Sam – warmer than usual – lifts his head, ears falling to the side, swooshes of dark hair covering his…

>…tear-stung eyes

>“I-I’m sorry…” he whispers, face screwing up like he’s about to implode

“What? Why?” You say, choking on a desperate feeling, your heart speaking before your mind has a chance. “You’re safe. We all made it.”

>“Because… it h-happened again,” Sam whispers, crawling off your lap and into the next seat over, his eyes stung with tears he never allowed himself to let go

>Alex pilots the rustbucket to your house

>Nobody speaks

>You sigh, crammed in between Jenna and Sam

>Now that you and Sam are safe, everything is going to be alright

Oliver Hart

Author of Foxing, The Leaves of Fall, Liquid Courage, Beating the Heat, A Red Winter, Weber’s Gambit, and many other stories. He primarily writes hmofa, but dabbles in most genres. Interests include, writing, reading, technology, and music.

Stories: Foxing, The Leaves of Fall