Art by Doph
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>You check the clock on your dash as your shitty car hums along the road towards the high school
>9:14 p.m.
>You’re the only ones on the road, which isn’t surprising. Ranchview is like this when it gets dark, and this late in fall, it gets dark quick
>“…And you know what I really can’t wait to do?” Mike croaks up from the passenger seat, pointing his beer towards the road
“What’s that?”
>“Go to college, get the FUCK out of this little town…”
“…Find a nice girl, settle down, have kids…” you snicker
>“Fuck that noise. I’m gonna stay 18 forever,” Mike drains his beer as if issuing a declaration of degeneracy
>“And between you and me,” he twists the top off his second bottle of the night and tosses his empty into your backseat. “Maybe I’ll go somewhere where the pickings aren’t as… slim?”
“You mean where there’re more humans, right?”
>“Yeah, you get what I’m saying. More people I can relate to. Make relations with.”
“What about Rachel Bigner?” you probe
>“That weird theater girl from Lang’s English class? Hell no dude. I’m trying to get my dick wet here, not find my Juliet.”
“I think Romeo and Juliet fucked, actually.”
>“Still not interested.”
“What happened to ‘pussy is pussy’?”
>“Listen man, just shut up and drive okay? You’re the last person who should be giving romantic advice,” he grumbles
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It MEANS I’m not super interested in anthros, but it’s got nothing to do with me not liking them or anything. Now, shut the fuck up. I’m going to give Alex a call and tell him to meet us at school. No more questions.”
“Oh, and tell him to bring more beer because you’re fucking drinking all of mine,” you snap
>“Sorry, sorry, next time we pick up I’ll get you more.”
>You’re not convinced
>He rubs your shoulder
>“C’mon baby, you know Mikey’s good for it.”
>You smirk, but you try hard not to
“Mikey better be ‘good for it’, or my dad’s going to see that there’s at least 12 beers missing when he gets back.”
>“That’s right baby,” Mike continues, dialing into his phone. “Let no one tell you that Mikey doesn’t treat his bitches right.”
“Why am I the bitch? I’m the only one who knows how to handle money right. And I’m drivin-”
>Mike shoves his phone against his ear, and you were the bitch for the rest of the night
>You aim the car up the hill
>Despite the relatively colossal size of your town, your high school is kind of an island
>There’re no houses or businesses around for a few miles in all directions.
>Due to its location on a hill, Ranchview High became the preferred destination for a group of restless seniors (your friends) to explore on a Friday evening
>You pull into the nearly empty parking lot and kill the engine
“Rides over,” you say, throwing open the Rustbucket’s door, handling what remains of your beer
>You and Mike end up sitting on the hood of your car, nursing beers and staring off into the distance of the barely lit parking lot
>Autumn was coming in nicely around here, you muse
>The air has gone stiff in the evenings, and each breath you took pulled cold embers of fall into your lungs
>You keep your eyes on the entrance to the lot. You almost want to wait in the car for Alex and turn on the heat
“Hey dude, Alex is coming, right?” you take a pull on your beer
>“He said he would be here. Just give him some time. You know how long it takes for him to do anything.”
>This was true. He takes a long time to do anything. It might help if he didn’t fucking bike everywhere
>It was possible he wouldn’t show up at all, or would pull up sometime around midnight
>So you and Mike shoot the shit for a few more minutes
>It becomes clear through your conversation that Mike’s getting pretty drunk
>He keeps talking about how excited he is that he got accepted into his first pick college and how far he’s going to be from home
>“It’s not that I hate this town or the people-“
“You just wanna slay some human pussy?”
>“No man, it’s not like that. I got nothing against anthros, nothing at all. It’s just… Nothing ever happens here. It’s boring. Do you know how old my neighbors are?”
“Aren’t they like… four or five?”
>“EXACTLY! We’re being pushed out of town by the youngins. Everything is so safe and sterile and boring. Like I said, nothing ever happens here…”
“You looking for that ‘girl next door’ kinda thing?”
>“Well, I wouldn’t say no-“
>He abruptly trails off, staring at something in the distance
“You okay dude?”
>No answer
“Mike?” You shake his shoulder
>“Hey Anon, isn’t that Sam Garlen over there?”
>He points towards someone walking out of the school’s gym entrance, pushing a cart laden with cleaning supplies
>Oh no
>HOW THE FUCK DOES MIKE KEEP FINDING THIS KID
>“Holy shit, I think it is. I think that’s our cotton tail,” Mike laughs
>You hope to God he’s wrong. You were having a decent night until now
>Mike slides off the hood of the car and lands with a curt stumble
>”I’m gonna go see if he wants to hang out with us. For laughs, you know?”
“Wait, Mike, hold on…”
>You try to stop him, but it’s no use
>“SAMMMY!” he yells
“Hey, keep it down, man. There’s no way that’s him!” you hiss
>It’s too late to reason with Mike. He takes off towards the person, now frozen at the edge of the parking lot
“It’s probably just a night janitor, you fucking idiot!” you yell after him
>You love Mike like a brother, but sometimes you want to strangle him. You can’t believe he’s going to college
>You grab his beer off the hood of your car and drain it, and then start shoving the rest of unopened beers into your backpack
>You are NOT going to get an MIP because of his drunken bullshit
>You finish putting some of the beer in your backpack when Mike’s excited voice booms behind you
>“Anon, look who I found!”
>You gather yourself with a deep, deep sigh, and turn around
“H-H-Hey Anon…” Sam says, standing next to Mike, red in the face and shivering from either fear or the cold
>You glare at Mike for a second. His dopey drunken grin stares back
>You then turn to Sam
“Hey Sam,” you sigh, trying to sound polite
>Somehow he always finds you. Do you emit pheromones that attract really awkward people, or something?
>Mike, tipsy and oblivious, prattles on excitedly before Sam can get a response out
>“Did you know that Sammy actually works for the school? Isn’t that neat?”
>Actually, you kind of wondered how he spent his Friday nights
“Is that what you’re doing out here, or did your parents forget to pick you up?” you say
>“Nope, he’s a night janitor!” Mike claps him on the shoulder, which makes Sam wince
>A janitor, huh? It’s oddly fitting for him, you suppose
>It’s creepy and decidedly low-level work, for a creepy, low-level bunny
“How come you never told me you were a night janitor, Sam?” you say
>Sam fidgets with his ears
“I-I’m not really an e-e-employee. I clean a-and they p-p-pay me,” he says
>”But you like, clean puke and poop and stuff?” Mike says, leaning hard on the car
>Sam looks down at his feet
>While you’re semi-listening to Sam try to explain his job, you get an idea
“Hey Sam,” you cut in, trying to sound polite, but you honestly don’t have all night to let this kid explain his weird job
>“Y-Yes?”
“You got keys to the school?”
>You can’t convince Mike to come with you, because he says he’s got a better idea than just wandering around the school at night
>“Remember how the gate to the dumpsters is always locked?”
“Yeah…But why would you wanna go hang out with some dumpsters? I thought you had better taste in women.”
>For the first time in what is maybe months, you hear Sam quietly snicker, just beneath Mike’s range of hearing
>“No, you’re not thinking of the bigger picture here. The ladder, Anon, the ladder!” He shouts
>Mike was referring to an old ladder that lead up to the roof, one fixed to the side of the school building. He’s always wanted to get on the school roof for one reason or another
>You take a swig of your own beer and decide, like any outstanding student would
“Fine, but we wait until Alex gets here,” you decide, aiming your beer at Mike
>Mike pumps his fist into the cold night air. “Yes!”
>Sam looks between you two like he’s trying to say something, but he eventually decides against it
>Maybe he wanted to protest or say no the fact that he’s basically just getting used for his access to the school?
>You look at the backseat of your car and realize you’ve still got some stray beers and a full six pack left, which was going be hard to fit all in your backpack
>Luckily, that’s where Sam comes into play
>You stuff the last beers into the rabbit’s backpack just as Alex rides up next to the car on his bike
>“What’s up comrades…” he leans his bike against your car “…annnndd Sam Garlen?”
>He gives you a confused look, but you just shrug your shoulders, as if to say, ‘just go with it.’
>You fill Alex in as the four of you walk over to the dumpsters, situated behind the school in a loading dock of sorts
>It was a popular spot for the slackers and the goths to come and pour out their angst on the great concrete canvas that is public high school
>Or smoke
>In the cold moonlight, you could make out all the graffiti and vandalism that the docks had accumulated
>As Sam nervously unlocks the gates to the dumpsters, you read what some of your fellow social misfits had left behind
>Obscene language, phallic symbols, a swastika, some pentagrams, and even a heart with two initials are all brazenly shown
>Were those two still together?
>A sentence that read “Fuck off skinfuckers” caught your attention, and immediately beneath that, a booming retort was issued: “Yiff in hell furfags”
>God, how old are these? How old is any of this?
>Did the kids who left this all behind think that it’d be here forever? Where are they now? Behind the counter at a gas station, studying in a college dorm, serving overseas and killing brown people?
>They were just like you once, but then things changed. Things always change. Nothing ever lasts
>“You coming or what, Anon?” Mike looks down on you from halfway up the ladder
>You shake your head free of these melancholy thoughts and make for the ladder
>Sam waits at the bottom, looking weighed down by the beers in his backpack
“You gonna be good to carry those?” you question. “Because if you drop ‘em, you and Mike both owe me some beer.”
>He nervously hooks his thumbs around the thin straps of his backpack
>“I-I th-th-think I’ll be okay. W-We’re not g-gonna be here l-long right? I c-could get in t-t-troub-“
>“Don’t be such a pussy Sammy,” Mike’s voice booms from the rooftop. “It’s a Friday night, the principals gone home already. Now hop your ass on up here. Same goes for you too, Anon, you bitch.”
>You frown and make Alex carry Sam’s backpack up.
>”You know, the school shouldn’t force you to work for such poor wages and in dangerous conditions,” Alex says, all without knowing what they pay Sam or what it’s like being a night janitor
>You think he just enjoys pretending to be some kind of communist revolutionary
>Sam goes ahead of you, struggling up the bars, and Alex brings up the rear
>The ladder is a tenuous climb. It makes sense that it’s hidden from students — this fucking thing is a lawsuit waiting to happen
>Every bit is covered in a thick coat of rust, and wherever you put your feet, the bars flex dangerously,
>You feel you’re climbing on pool noodles
>Perhaps noticing this same feeling, Sam scampers up to the top, and you’re quick behind him
>Fuck that death trap
>Alex is having a little more trouble. He’s by no means fat, but out of the four of you, he’s the biggest and the tallest, and having the extra weight of a few beers in his backpack isn’t helping
>“Hey guys,” he pauses on the last few bars of the ladder. “This bar here seems kinda flexibl-“
>The sound of metal sheering and snapping breaks the quiet of the night
>The bars at Alex’s feet rend in half, and were it not because his grip reflexively tightened around the bars that he was holding onto, he would have likely plunged thirty feet onto the cold, wet ground
>“SWEET FUCK!” he shouts on instinct
>Frozen in shock, you all watch as Alex dangles from the building’s side, unable to comfortably place his feet on the distant bars.
>He grits his teeth and musters whatever he learned in gym class of sophomore year and pulls his body up to the next rung
>After some struggle and some grunting, Alex flops over the railing and onto the roof, where you and Mike pull him to safety
>“Holy shit,” Alex breathes, sharp and fast, sitting up on his hands and knees. He looks at you, out of breath, red and still shaking out the adrenaline. “You know how some high school kids have those ‘I almost died doing something stupid’ stories to tell? I think I just earned mine.”
>You’d have to agree, though you keep it a secret that you haven’t had yours yet
>“Well, we’re boned, thanks to comrade Alexi,” Mike says, looking over the rooftop’s railing
>Alex’s near brush with death had destroyed enough bars on the already delicate ladder that it looked impossible to climb down
>“It’s not my fault that the school can’t afford to replace their equipment,” Alex brushes the dust off his green sweater, “That’s something that the greedy fucks in the White House should have taken care of for us.”
>“Well, we better get used to life up here, because we’re trapped. I say we eat Sam first,” Mike says
>Sam squeaks with nerves
>He knows that was just a joke, right?
>You scan the rooftop and notice a stooped building attached to the roof, obviously some sort of maintenance access tunnel
“Sam, you have keys for that?”
>He fumbles with the keyring in the pockets of his sweats
>“M-Maybe?” He stammers
>Good enough. It’s cold, you’re all a little scared, and you want a beer to warm up
>You all sit near the edge of the roof, beers in hand. Alex is halfway through his first, Mike through his third or fourth, and you’re nursing yours
>Sam hasn’t even sipped his
>From up here, you can see everything
>Stretching out before you is Ranchview, all lit up with phosphorescent orange from the streetlights
>The moon, too big and too bright to not be a curious anomaly to astronomers, hangs fat and round in the sky above
>All that stretched before you, stubborn against the darkness, is home. It was all you’ve ever known
>It seems endless, inescapable
>“Man, I cannot WAIT to get out of here,” Mike says, almost as if he was talking to the entire town. “Going to go to college, going to have some fun, put some miles between me and this place.”
>He tosses his empty bottle off the roof towards the city, almost like he could strike a blow against the forces of stability and monotony that have plagued him since birth
> It lands somewhere beneath you in the dark, the sharp sound of glass shattering on pavement being the only noise for miles
>“I just wanna quit Shop N’ Save. College will be a nice segue into politics,” Alex concurs, also hurling his bottle off the edge
>You pass them both another bottle
>More ammunition for their rooftop rebellion
“Why not just quit?”
>“I’d love to, believe me, but mom and dad won’t let me. Once I’m no longer beneath their iron fist, I’m gonna do something big, something more important than selling estrus blockers to horny moms,” he sighs. “I just… wanna do something that matters.”
>“Yeah,” Mike quips. “Me too. I want to do something important. Something that matters.”
>You suck down your beer and toss it into the night
>That doesn’t sound so bad, you think
>Something that matters
>“So what about you, Anon, bet you got into some pretentious Ivy League school,” Mike takes a swig. “You know what you want to study?”
>You fidget uncomfortably at the question
>In truth, you’ve been putting off thinking about this kind of stuff for as long as you could. It made you nervous
>How can anyone ask an eighteen-year-old what they’re going to do for the rest of their life? Haven’t they seen how many kids get burned in this trial by fire?
>You clear your throat and start on another beer
“I actually haven’t applied anywhere. Or… thought about it much,” you reply in a quiet voice
>“You’re kidding?” Alex sounds surprised. “Out of all of us, I would have thought that you would have been on top of this.”
>“Yeah, both of us morons couldn’t swing it in the AP classes like you can. You’re seriously not applying anywhere?” Mike probes
>Your heart skips in your chest. God damnit can we stop talking about this?
>You guess you don’t see a purpose in all the urgency in adolescence. This is the last, finest year of your youth. There are movies made about senior year and all these guys can think about is trying to get it done with. The fools
>You look around for a distraction and your eyes coldly settle on Sam, who hasn’t said a word yet. He’s been sipping on his beer, but is barely a fourth of the way through it
>That big tourist
>That outsider
>That freeloader
“What about you, Sam? What are you doing after you graduate?” you ask, almost taunting him
>The rabbit freezes up at the question, his small body beginning to shake
>That was mean, but it had to be done. You needed a diversion
>“W-Well I-I-I umm…” he stammers. “I’m n-n-not s-smart enough for c-c-college a-a-and I’m not good enough f-f-for a r-regular job…s-so…” he trails off, unable to finish his thought. He bows his head, almost shamefully
>Wow. That was really hard to hear, actually
>You’d actually feel… regret
>“So you’re just gonna be a night janitor your entire life and live at home?” Mike says, rather matter-of-fact. You know he didn’t mean to sound rude, but when you look critically at Sam’s options, there was no other way around it
>“I-I g-guess?” Sam whispers
>Now you REALLY feel regret for asking. You never wanted to know this much about him
>Alex brings his knees close to his chest and looks thoughtfully at the city. You can see the moonlight reflected in his soft blue eyes
>“Well, at least you’ll have Anon to keep you company in this tiny ass town,” he says wistfully
>He didn’t mean that to be spiteful. Maybe he was trying to be sensitive
>Alex has never been tactful. Amazing that he wants to be some kind of politician
>Sam shivers a little from the cold, and maybe, in his head, he’s hoping you’ll stick around
>You all settle for silence, at least until almost all the beer is gone, and the night gets too late
>Mike somewhat drunkenly slurs out that it’s cold and he’d like to get off the roof now, to which Alex replies that we’re stuck up here
“Actually, we can just go through the maintenance thingy over there,” you jab a thumb behind you, towards the stooped over little entrance back into the school. “Right Sam?”
>“I knew Sammy would come in handy,” Mike laughs. “There’s a reason we brought Thumper!”
>Sam says nothing while Mike and Alex come up with increasingly offensive slurs and nicknames for him. His eyes watch the tiny flitting lights of the city, like a child watches fireflies dance in the dark
>They’re the only thing he hears and sees right now, not this city, not the cruel jokes behind him between two drunken dickheads he barely knows, not even Anon, his only ‘friend’ studying him, volunteering him to break the law
>The rabbit spreads his tiny fingers, barely touching yours, and you can actually see him breathe steadily for once instead of hyperventilating
>You shake him by his shoulder, and he lets out the most feminine squeak you’ve ever heard from a boy
>…Okay…
“C’mon, we’re gonna go,” you say, pointing at the door
>He reluctantly retracts his hands back into his hoodie and digs around for his keys
>When you finally stand, you can feel the blood pounding in your temple. You’ve had a bit too much
>More than a little drunk, Mike trots over to the edge of the roof near the ladder
>“We could jump,” he says, looking a little like he intended to do just that. “We could probably land in those dumpsters. They’re open.”
>Alex yells at him to get away from the ledge
>“Don’t be a retard, Mike. You’d get killed, and I already cheated death once tonight. We’re outta luck as a group.”
>“You guys are no fun,” Mike grumbles, taking a few dizzy steps back from the edge. “Are we going to waste our youth playing it safe or are we going to fucking do something!?”
>You play it safe
>The four of you elect to leave the rest of your beers on the roof, right next to the rooftop door, making plans to return again
>Sam nervously fidgets with his keyring, trying out all shapes and sizes while Mike complains that he’s cold, which doesn’t help the rabbit in going faster
>When he finds the right one, the door pulls open slowly, shaking off ages of rust and dust
>Sam stands in the entrance wrinkling his nose
>“We going or what?” Mike urges
>“S-s-something s-s-smells bad in h-here…” Sam turns to you for assurance
>But you keep your gaze fixated on the dark corridor ahead
>None of you can smell anything, but you remind them that anthros like Sam usually have a greater sense of smell than humans
>“So nobody fart, cause it’ll kill Sam,” Mike says with a laugh
>“Especially not you,” Alex mutters
>You tell Sam to just hold his nose so you can get inside and get out of the cold
>Again, with some reluctance, the rabbit complies
>The four of you wander the black corridors above the school, relying on the lights from your cellphones to cleave a path into the dark
>Old pipes hang like forgotten Christmas lights above
>Beneath you, your feet echo off the cold concrete floors
>After several minutes of no progress and increasing frustration, you ask Sam if he knows the way out
>He stammers a little and shakes his head
>“I-I’ve never b-been up here. I-I-I don’t know w-where any of t-t-this goes…”
>You all let out an audible groan
>To be fair, it doesn’t look like anyone has been up here in YEARS, so the chance of Sam knowing the way up here was slim to begin with
>The only saving grace is that the deeper you get into the school, the warmer it seems to get, which is a welcome change from the frosted night air in your lungs
>That saving grace quickly becomes a thorn in your side as the air gets heavier and warmer the deeper in you go
>Soon you’re practically suffocating on the hot air
>Mike ditches his jacket and Alex pulls off his sweater. You also strip down to your undershirt
>Sam rolls up his sleeves, revealing his starved, skeletal arms, his brown fur caked in sweat. Covered in cuts and welts. He pants, not loudly, but enough to be heard, and you’re tempted to ask him if it’s hot under all that fur and why he doesn’t just take off the fucking hoodie. You’re all guys, right?
>The corridor spreads out considerably, and you can no longer use the walls to guide yourself safely
>You fumble about in the dark, hands grasping at anything solid
>Wherever you are now, it’s not the same stuffy halls as before.
>After a few twists and turns, you all take a slight break, slumping, backs against the wall, sweating out the tight air
>It feels like you’re drowning
>This is how you die, isn’t it? Steamed to death in your own high school?
>Fuck, you can see the headlines in the local rag already
>Mike tries to make light of the situation
>“Everyone say their prayers before tonight?” he wheezes
>Alex coughs and gasps for air
>Sam takes raspy breaths and throws back his hood, his sticky brown hair spilling across his face, ears tumbling down in front of him
>He reaches up to twist his ears reflexively, but his hands fall short from exhaustion, and then slump against his sides
>You want to help him, call for someone, even scream at your own lagging suffocation, but you don’t feel you’ve got any strength left
>You check your phone for the time
>11:59
>How poetic would it be to die at exactly midnight?
>But life isn’t like your favorite poems. Damn them for ruining your expectations
>Goodbye mom, dad, Mike, Alex. It’s been a wild 18 years. Here’s to hoping that whatever god is watching you doesn’t mind all the shameful porn you’ve fapped to
>Your vision clouds with darkness, so you close your eyes and surrender to the pink of your inner-eyelids
>You hope it won’t hurt
Oliver Hart
Author of Foxing, 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