A few hours before Rodney called Marcus again.

  Two in the morning – Most of Evergreen was asleep, tucked into their cozy beds while night owls worked their shifts. Bakers toiled in their hot kitchens to produce palatable pastries for that morning, truck drivers speedily and safely transferred product to retailers in time for that week’s sales, road workers closed off lanes to fix cracks and bumpy surfaces.

  And one coroner remained wide awake; the body of a deceased child on his examination table. The body belonged to Peter Avery only twelve hours ago, but now was under Rodney’s studious care.

  The surface samples and bruises only related so much. The coloration of the contusions revealed that some were made before others; some were red, while others were bluish. It wasn’t a precise way to gauge their age, but it meant it was possible that not every marking on Peter’s body was caused by his brother.

  With this much bruising, an internal inspection was needed. No child could get battered this much without procuring damage to organs, bones, or tissues. The contorted foot remained a mystery. Rodney didn’t think it was linked directly to the boy’s death, as aside from the rare case of podiatric fat embolism, hardly anyone ever died from a broken foot. He intended to study it though.

  The skeleton x-ray revealed broken bones, as Rodney expected. However, the extent of damage done to the rib cage was staggering. If the dark blue fragments on the electronic display were accurate, then Rodney would expect to see a fractured sternum as well as ten pairs of broken and shattered ribs upon dissection. There would be hardly anything left to even call a rib cage. Rodney let out a small gasp but kept his composure.

  “I hope...you were gone before that happened…”

  Other thoughts crossed the bat’s mind as he retrieved the scalpel to begin the dissection. On one hand, the violence he saw depicted on the screen troubled him. Ten pairs of fragmented and fractured ribs was a level of trauma he couldn’t wrap his mind around. He’d seen cases of those who perished from physical abuse; even the most barbarous of offenders rarely induced this level of carnage. However, Rodney’s skepticism of the hare’s account heightened...it didn’t add up with the display before him.

  “Unless Ben grew to the size of a bear and bludgeoned his brother with an iron cudgel...there’s no way he could’ve done this.”

  This didn’t necessarily excuse Ben, but it did imply there was a gaping hole in this macabre puzzle. The hare was not the only one who missed something yesterday...Ben missed something too.

  With steady and patient hands, Rodney began the Y-shaped incision that would soon unveil a ghastly catastrophe. The cut began at the left shoulder blade and slowly forged its way to Peter’s breast bone. A thin line of dark, coagulated blood appeared as the knife progressed to the sternum. This line was mirrored when Rodney performed a symmetrical cut from the other shoulder blade, causing the two lines to form a shallow “v.” He made one final slit starting at the vertex and terminating at the pubic bone.

  He was glad Peter’s parents weren’t here to see this; he doubted even Marcus would’ve been able to stomach such a grotesque portrayal of his beloved grandson.

  Rodney opened the newly-formed flaps of skin and was greeted by a massacre. The exposed chest cavity screamed at him in a gory hodgepodge of shattered bone, cartilage, and arteries. Desensitized enough to not puke out his own viscera, Rodney took photos of the destruction and uploaded those into Peter’s case file. The sight before the bat’s eyes made him think someone took a sledge hammer to the little squirrel and pounded the daylights out of him. He brought his focus first to all the fracture points, using the necessary tools in the meantime to move tissue aside for a better look.

  “Not only are the ribs shattered...it appears his rib cage was violently smashed in by a force of horrific magnitude...these impact points appear to show this...rib fragments not only bent inward, but some appear to be lodged deeper into his chest.” Rodney internalized and recorded his thoughts and findings into the case log as he carefully poked and prodded through the damaged tissue and ruptured blood vessels. “The fact that there was minimal, visible sign of this traumatic injury is telling...the only explanation I can think of right now is that he was struck in the chest by something broad enough to impact his entire thoracic region at once, forcing everything inward. That may be why there wasn’t much blood on his chest.”

  As Rodney continued to pour over the scene, he recalled what the mink told him about the hare.

  “She saw the other squirrel, presumably Ben, hitting Peter repeatedly...but…how could a squirrel do this much damage, if in fact Ben did all this? There’s no way his hands would’ve been able to exhibit enough force to shatter bones like this. A bear? Sure, but not a small rodent!”

  Rodney knew that, as ghastly as this bloody display was, it ensconced the answer to Peter’s demise. Broken bones alone don’t kill someone, but the bat was positive they’d lead him in the right direction. If his rib cage was this staggeringly damaged, then whatever was behind it had to be damaged too. The heart and the lungs were the primary organs the rib cage defended, but if the rib cage was shoved inward with catastrophic and brutal force...the heart and lungs would be adversely affected. It’d be certain death.

  For a few seconds, Rodney pictured the poor child; displaced rib fragments causing a pneumothorax and making every breath a hellishly agonizing experience. Peter would’ve struggled and gasped for air while intermittent coughs would’ve caused intense chest and shoulder pain, exacerbating the trauma. Perhaps pieces of rib were situated in his heart as well, and maybe the trachea, and perhaps-

  Rodney noticed a tear drop from his eye and splash onto the tiled floor. He quickly wiped his eyes in somber embarrassment.

  “Relax, Rodney...relax.”

  The bat collected himself and resumed his work. The answer to Peter’s death had to be close; a misplaced piece of bone lodged in his heart or trachea would be enough to cause anyone to give up the ghost. With shears and sharp-end scissors in hand, Rodney made his way to the lungs.

  -

  “Dead?!” Peter laughed at a disoriented Ben. “I’m not dead!”

  “B-b-b-but…you, uh, f-fell, a-a-and-”

  “Kids!” Ronald barked as he pulled into the theater parking lot. “Stop arguing; it’s Tuesday!”

  “Sorry, dad.”

  The doors flew open as the car spat everyone out at the same time. The scene transformed into Blueberry Grove as Ben face-planted onto the grass. It was warm and wet, as though it’d just been watered. Peter yanked him up by the back of his neck with tremendous force, making him nearly lose his balance.

  “Let’s play ‘Find the Acorn!’” Peter’s tail swished.

  Rachel leapt out of the Pratley duffel bag her father was carrying. “I wanna pway!”

  “Okay, but you’re the acorn.” Peter said.

  “Yay!”

  A bright warmth filled Ben’s heart as he watched his little brother gleefully scurry through the flowers and bound up every tree. Peter was alive the whole time! There was no river, no hare, no Bill, just…

  Normality.

  “Ben!” Peter urged the idle Ben from halfway up a 50,000-foot pine. “Come on!”

  “Okay!” He darted after his little brother. The pine tree extended upwards and upwards, scaling into the boundless blue sky. Ben closed in on him and performed a daring leap to snag his tail. “Gotcha!” His little fingers came within a centimeter of the appendage, and then…

  He woke up.

  “Wha-?” He muttered as his pupils adjusted to the dark room. Pallid, cloud-obscured moonlight shimmered on the walls of the guest room. The bed he was in was massive for the squirrel’s tiny frame; it was clearly intended for a bear. The silk sheets and woolen blankets swaddled the child in welcoming warmth; Bill laundered and smoothed all the bedding hours before to make sure his sleep was comfortable. The young squirrel moaned in pained wistfulness as he realized Peter wasn’t here.

  “It seemed so real…” He whimpered, the moisture in his eyes quickly disintegrating into a river of tears. He crumpled as much of the blanket as he could with his little arms and sobbed into the mass of cotton and silk. The ball of bedding helped muffle his screams and wails. Nothing hammered in the death of a loved one so much as the death of a lovely dream basking in their likeness. Euphoria and mirth were cruelly supplanted by the sensation of rusty, jagged nails forcefully twisted into his heart. They marred every pleasant, cheerful, and mundane memory he shared with his brother. They jeered at him with their crooked grins and guttural guffaws, reminding him that Peter was never coming back.

  “Loved that dream? Too bad it was FAKE!”

  Ben could only stew in his tears for so long before his parched throat pleaded for water. He dragged himself to the edge of the bed and hopped off. The door was left ajar so the small rodent could slip through if he needed anything (Bill permitted him to get water and use the bathroom, of course). He slinked silently through the slim crevasse of the door frame and into the hallway. Its motion-based lights activated upon his movement, guiding his path safely.

  He scampered lightly through a couple hallways before finding himself in the dining room. This room laid adjacent to the kitchen and family room, also containing a thick, sliding-glass door leading to the backyard patio. A sturdy stairwell lined with an ebony banister connected to the dining room and led to the second floor, where Bill slept. He gave Ben a room on the first floor as he insisted it was the best one; it had the comfiest bed, biggest TV, and the most amount of toys. It was the room his grandkids always clawed each other over. Ben accepted his offer, though didn’t think about using any of its child-centered amenities. He just wanted to hide there and beg the ceiling to crash down on him in his sleep.

  The light brightened as Ben set foot in the kitchen, causing the young squirrel to pause and squint momentarily. He adjusted to the brightness after half a minute and helped himself to a small, refreshing cup of filtered water. He greedily gulped down all the cold water without stopping to breathe; his dry throat welcoming the satisfying sensation. Upon imbibing the remnant dregs, he heartily shoved the cup against the lever to fill it with more water.

  “I’ll stay out here.” He thought as he filled himself with more water. “There’s more light, and-”

  A sudden but stifled thud ricocheted through the dining room; It wasn’t loud, but was enough to make Ben drop his cup in terror.

  “AHH!” He immediately dove into the pantry and hid behind a large bag of Miller’s Flour. He curled and shrank back as much as he could, wanting to make it harder for the invading monster to see him. The thumps continued about once every fifteen to thirty seconds, but there was something unusual about them. Not only did they get weaker each time, they sounded like they weren’t coming from outside.

  They sounded like they were coming from underground.

  Curiosity prodded Ben out of the pantry, though he clung to semi-drowsy vigilance. His adrenaline abated and was replaced with the youthful yearning for discovery. The clamor, though intermittent and waning, didn’t stop. Little Ben crept stealthily along the cocobolo floor on his belly, tracing the source of the sound with a wary ear.

  “Hello? Anyone there?” He whispered into the floor, as though someone was on the other side. There was no verbal reciprocation to his inquiry, but there was another thud.

  It was closer!

  Ben’s heart raced. He persisted in his search until he wound up in a nook. It wasn’t part of the dining room and was hard to notice because of the way Bill positioned his standing plants and birds of paradise. An additional light lit up as Ben found himself in this mysterious, obscure section of the house.

  Before him were stairs leading downward.

  Towards a door.

  A rare smirk crossed the child’s face and his ears perked up. “Oh cool, a basement! What’s in there?!”

  While this house was not as large as Marcus’ mansion, the boy had visions of his grandpa’s basement. It was practically another floor; eight guest rooms, four bathrooms, a kitchen, a recreational den for games, toys, a TV, and a small library. Whenever Ben was over, it was his and his siblings’ favorite place to hang out.

  Surely an affluent bear with young grandkids had a similar set up.

  He bolted down the stairs so quickly his light frame nearly skidded into the door. He eagerly clambered up the frame to maneuver the doorknob, but before he could wrap his tiny hands around the steel handle, he heard a sound that was nothing like a thud.

  “Mffmffpffmffpf!”

  Ben’s eyes bulged from their sockets and he stumbled to the floor in surprise. Frantic scratching sounds accompanied the garbled mumbling and moaning.

  “Wh-wha...Who’s th-there?!” The child froze, confused panic encouraging action and hesitance at the same time.

  “MPFMMHHMFF!”

  “I-I-” The conflicted rodent stuttered for several aimless seconds. “I-I’m com-”

  “BEN!”

  Bill’s staccato growl eviscerated the air with a rigid, chilling blare, freezing Ben’s insides to the bone. The squirrel wasn’t facing him, but he heard the bared teeth and fangs in his anger.

  “I-I’m sor-sorry…” He whimpered as his diminutive body shrank into a corner. The child cried as he expected the grizzly to bear down on him and grind him to a pulp with a disciplinary stomp. The noise behind the door ceased, but Ben was too harried by his nerves to notice.

  “I’m so bad a-and evil and I d-d-didn’t mean to-”

  The grizzly stooped and lifted the panicked rodent into a firm but reassuring grip. “Stop that, I’m not mad at ya.”

  The squirrel’s glassy little eyes peered up at his. “...you’re...not?”

  “I’m not; I just didn’t want you to get hurt. See, it’s not safe for ya down here. I blocked the stairs with those plants for a reason.” Bill informed as he walked back up with Ben in the crook of his arm. The soft, woolen sleeve of his crimson-red nightgown caused the small animal to nestle into it a little more.

  “Wh-what do you mean? It’s dangerous down there?”

  “Could be if you open the door.” Bill answered, reaching the top of the stairs and sliding the plants back to their original posts with his free arm. “My water heater acts crazy sometimes and if you got too close, it could burn your skin right off. It’d be a hell-simulator for ya!”

  Ben was about to ask another question before his mind envisioned himself boiling away in one of hell’s sulfuric vats. His imagination added ledges that were barely high enough for him not to reach, and burnt, tar-slathered hands grabbing him by the throat and yanking him downward. Their crooked, rusty fingernails pierced his skin and sank into his throat as he fought their bondage.

  “Ben, wouldja stop crying?” Bill gently held Ben’s little head between two of his fingers with just enough force to make him gasp and snap out of his stupor.

  “Sor-”

  “You’re fine, son, just stay up here from now on, okay?” Bill’s eyes narrowed in on his; his gaze wasn’t threatening, but it was as a stern father warning his son not to place his hand over a hot stove. He tucked Ben back into his bed and bid him goodnight before going back to his own room. Ben’s agitation abated after a few minutes as his little frame curled up under the blanket.

  “But...I thought I heard a voice, like someone was trapped...do water heaters do that? What about the bangs and the scratches too?”

  Ben mulled over these anomalies but soon gave in to sleep. He’d ask Bill in the morning.

  -

  Marcus’ eyes wearily creaked open after a generous two-hour sleep. His dreams largely consisted of either watching Peter die in various ways, or Evelyn sobbing over his still torso, pleading and begging God to raise him from the dead. He was relieved to have a momentary reprieve from that.

  Diane was asleep, though Marcus felt moisture on her cheeks when he caressed her face. She uttered a quiet and forlorn yipp when he touched her.

  “We’ll get through this...I’ll make sure of it.”

  He rolled out of bed as silently as he could and stretched his stiffened limbs. He sauntered to the mostly-spotless kitchenette to slake his thirst. The gray wolf caught his reflection in the polished toaster after turning the light on, though wished he hadn’t. His eyes were sallow and expression defeated; the pupils squinting at him through the appliance showed a broken grandfather. He saw a man who wanted to weep for his grandson but fettered himself with a stiff upper lip.

  But he sensed the fetter shaking loose. A brief but lucid hallucination placed Peter on the marble counter. The bereaved wolf honed his attention on him with perked ears.

  “Grampa!” The little squirrel’s tail swished happily. “I drawed you REALLY BIG! Wanna see it?!”

  “Of course!”

  Peter reached behind himself and produced his drawing from thin air. Marcus’ imagination placed the crude likeness of a gray wolf on the sheet. It was colored in with a light gray crayon and “mrcus” was inscribed underneath. The wolf’s paw reached to take it before the hallucination vanished.

  He only grabbed air.

  “Oh...Peter…” Marcus’ ears drooped and he released a choked whimper. He clenched his paw as it laid on the counter; fighting back tears but unable to prevent some minuscule trickles from rolling down his cheeks. “I-I...I didn’t even get to say goodbye…”

  He inhaled steady breaths to calm himself down. He didn’t think there was shame in crying, but didn’t want to make a scene and wake his wife up. He poured himself a glass of tap water and downed it in a few quick gulps. He washed it and set it in the rack to dry. Satiated, but no less heavyhearted, he sleepily trod back to his bed. As he positioned himself comfortably under the blanket, his eyes caught a glimpse of the display on the radio clock.

  5:34.

  He sighed and closed his eyes, hoping he could get at least another hour of rest before getting up again to go down to the station.

  Then his phone started humming. He typically set it up so it’d stay silent when he’d normally be asleep, but made an exception for tonight in case Rodney or other law enforcement needed to get in touch with him. With a mixture of irritation and optimism, he read the screen.

  Evergreen Coroner Lab.

  Marcus’ heart nearly leapt from his chest...he’d soon receive some answers! Whether it was cause of death or Ben’s whereabouts, he starved for information.

  Specifically relief and closure.

  “Rodney, tell me you have good news!” The anxious wolf cut to the chase.

  Diane was woken by her husband’s voice, but merely opened her eyes halfway. She listened in silent attentiveness, but Rodney’s words were difficult to make out.

  “Rib cage…”

  “Fractured…”

  “Lungs…”

  Marcus said little, letting the bat divulge the cold, hard facts. Diane caught some more words.

  “Tried to…”

  “Mistaken…”

  “Chest presses…”

  “Ben…”

  The grandfather continued to listen. When the coroner started talking about Ben, his tone changed. Diane was only half-awake, but perceived the increased sadness in his voice. Marcus was dead quiet, and after Rodney explained a few more things, the wolf uttered a horrified gasp.

  “N-no...Benjamin…”

  The phone dropped from Marcus’ trembling paw and the tears he tried to restrain burst through his dam of fortitude.

  No one’s life was going to be the same...especially Ben’s.

  -

  Ben’s eyelids slowly lifted as the tired squirrel woke up hours later. A soft, dreamy yellow flooded the room with the warmth of a fresh spring morning. He laid still and listened to the chirping of the jays outside. He exhaled a prolonged yawn and stretched his little body before shutting his eyes again. He wasn’t ready to wake up.

  The ambiance brought him back to Pine Trails. His dad typically woke him with a gentle nudge before going to work just to say bye. Ben would mumble goodbye and curl up to sleep an extra ten minutes before his mom would wake him up for school. He always felt a kiss on his forehead from her, and she’d urge him to hop out of bed bright eyed and bushy-tailed.

  As his mind wandered a little longer, he expected his mom or dad to walk in any moment and rouse him from his bed.

  “Wake up, your pancakes're gettin’ cold!” Her voice rang through his disoriented mind, making him think she was standing over him with an impatient hand on her hip. He bolted up with an apology poised on his lips.

  “Sor-”

  No one was there. No mom. No dad. No siblings. No familiarity.

  Emptiness.

  “I-I...I wanna go home…” He moaned as he recalled the last time his parents hugged him. Droplets rolled from his tear ducts as he considered he might not ever see his family again. He peered out the window into the backyard in hopes they’d be there somehow.

  “M-mom, dad...I’m sorry…” He sniffled. “I-I didn’t mean to run away...”

  A light rap at his door sent his thoughts crashing to a halt. “Ben?” Bill addressed him. “You up?”

  “Y-yeah…”

  The knob turned and the oak door creaked open enough for Bill to poke his head through. “Son…” He cleared his throat, “I’m sorry I yelled at ya last night; I hope you’re not scared to come out and have breakfast.”

  Ben’s eyes shifted in confusion before realizing an apology was being delivered to him rather than from him. “It’s okay...I was a stupid little-”

  “No, I was harsh with ya when you were simply curious. Here, come and have breakfast. I want to talk with ya and figure out how to help ya.” Bill nudged the door open wider, gesturing to the squirrel to follow him. The small rodent scampered after the bear.

  Though Ben wasn’t in his own house, he asked Bill if there was somewhere he could take a bath before eating. He never liked eating when feeling dirty and grimy; even if starving, he insisted on bathing first.

  “Sure, I’ll set it up for ya.” Bill nodded. “I’m glad ya value hygiene.”

  “What’s a hygiene?”

  “Making sure you’re all clean so you don’t get sick.” Bill expressed a small grin. “You remind me of my son when he was your age; he always wanted to be clean before he did anything.”

  “You have a son?” Ben asked.

  “Yeah, he was a good son and everything. He’s all grown of course and has his own kids, but he’s still the same way about always bein’ clean.”

  Bill set up the bath while Ben silently waited. The bear continued to ramble about his family, not realizing the squirrel was zoning out and simply wanting his bath.

  “...and then,” Bill paused to collect his thoughts, “he became pastor of a church in Pine Trails. I don’t go there, but-”

  “Pine Trails?” Ben’s tail instinctively swished. “That’s where I live!”

  “Oh yeah? You don’t say!” Bill chuckled. “You like it there?”

  “Yeah. There’s trees and grass everywhere, and everyone’s nice. I miss it.” The squirrel answered with a hint of gusto in his voice that faded as quickly as it came. “I...I wanna go home…”

  “Hm?” Bill grunted as though his mind was elsewhere. “Oh...yeah. I understand.” He cleared his throat. “Well, the bath’s ready. Just, uh, make sure to turn the water off when you’re done and dry with one of those towels.” He gestured to a rack labeled “Guest,” upon which were a few but very soft yellow towels with decorative fringes.

  “Okay.” He affirmed and climbed over the wall of the tub and into the warm water. “Thank you.”

  “Of course.” Bill nodded. “Enjoy.”

  He shut the door and left Ben on his own. The only sound was the steady stream of water cascading from the brass faucet and clashing onto the tub’s acrylic surface. The small squirrel stood under the water, letting its force and heat melt away some of the grime stubbornly caked into his fur. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the rejuvenating sensation. For now, he wished time could freeze. He closed the drain with the steel plug so the water level could rise and submerge more of his body. He climbed up and shut the water off when it reached a couple inches off the tub's floor. He hopped back in after being satisfied with it.

  “Just like home.” He grinned contentedly, thinking about how often he and Peter filled the tub at home and played in it like they would a ball pit. They’d splash water all over the floor as they played with their little boats and engaged in naval warfare. Rachel would often barge in and join in their maritime merriment if their parents didn’t keep a vigilant eye on her.

  His mind continued to wander through the dale of nostalgia until it found the previous night buried in its recesses. Bill’s aimless monologue about his son distracted Ben from the questions he wanted to ask him about the broken water heater.

  “Why’d it make those scratching and voice sounds?” Ben pondered as the water level rose enough to cover his feet. He ran through a number of theories as he lathered himself with soap; he could’ve imagined the whole thing, or Bill was wrong and It wasn’t the water heater, or it could’ve been a sentient robot water heater, or-

  A sudden knock on the door made the squirrel jump.

  “You okay in there?” Bill’s muffled voice inquired.

  “Huh? Oh, uh...yeah!” Ben scrambled to unplug the drain and scrape the rest of the soap off himself. “Just, uh, finished! S-sorry!”

  “It’s alright,” Bill replied, “just checkin’ on ya. Made pancakes, eggs, and hash browns; I’ll heat ‘em back up for ya once you’re out.”

  “Uh, thanks!”

  The mention of food made his stomach grumble and liven his pace. He was dried, out the door, and seated at the table within three minutes. He’d not only be filled with wholesome food, but perhaps wholesome answers very soon.

  While Ben waited for his breakfast to be reheated, he occasionally turned his head toward the plants ensconcing the stairwell. There were no sounds this time.

  “Still worried about the water heater?” Bill caught him looking.

  “No, but...I was, well, wondering about some stuff.”

  The grizzly nodded, plopping a second hash brown onto Ben’s plate. “I knew you would, but I assure you ya have nothin’ to worry about. The water heater’s been acting fine all morning.”

  “But,” Ben wasn’t satiated, “I thought, uh…” he gulped, “I heard something else in there.”

  “Like what?”

  “Uh...like...a voice, or s-scratching, or, you know, like…” His pulse raced as stilted words tumbled from his mouth like clumps of mud being cleared from a gutter. Deathly fear of incriminating this kind, old bear choked him. “It’s just, y-you know, just, uh, what I heard. I-I’m sure it was nothing though! I-I’m not saying you’re bad or a kidnapper or anything! I-I’m sorry!”

  Bill raised a halting hand and silenced Ben. He grunted pensively. “Hmm…it makes sense…”

  “...What does?”

  “I’ll explain over breakfast.”

  -

  Diane gazed at her husband in reticent horror. He related everything Rodney told him. What she heard about her grandsons, especially Ben, left her vulnerable heart in tatters.

  “Oh Marcus...what are we going to do? Ben’s life is...is...” She sniffed and grabbed tissues from the lavender box on the bedside table.

  “ruined…” The sullen-eyed gray wolf finished her thought with a defeated tone, grabbing some tissues after her and wiping his eyes. “At best, it’ll be very, very hard to fix. Even with the wonderful parents he was blessed with, he’s going to live with this…” he gulped, “the rest of his life.”

  Diane alighted from the bed with quaking limbs. “W-we have to find him quickly and hope to God he’s still alive! I-I’m scared for him!”

  “I’ll wake the others up and we’ll go to the station to start looking.”

  “I’ll come, and I’ll call Claudia, Cecilia, and Ronald while you wake the others up.” Diane offered, then a paralyzing shiver traversed down her spine when she considered how Rachel was going to handle the news. She loved her brother to pieces.

  “Her happy little world will be destroyed...My poor baby…”

  Marcus acknowledged her with a nod and went to knock on Xavier, Janet, and Evelyn’s door. “Guys, are you up?” He had to knock a few more times before he heard blankets rustling and tired paws stepping onto the floor.

  “Dad?” Xavier yawned. He opened the door without bothering to tidy his appearance. “Sorry, slept like crap.”

  “It’s fine; just wanted to let you know your mother and I will head to the station soon to start looking for Ben.”

  “I’ll come.” His son offered without a second thought. “I’ll see if Janet wants to come too.”

  Marcus waited as Xavier sauntered to Janet’s bedside. She faced away from him, trying to work in undisturbed sleep. She held her sister-in-law in her arms, giving the bereaved squirrel much-needed warmth.

  “Hey.” Xavier nudged her shoulder blade with his paw. “Uh, we’re about to look for Ben and wanted to know if you’ll come. Sorry to wake you by the way.”

  Janet creaked her head towards him and met his face with a disoriented daze. He repeated himself twice before her wearied mind processed his words. She eased herself out of bed, careful not to wake Evelyn.

  “Hey…” She sleepily greeted. “Yeah...I’ll come.”

  “I’ll ask if Evelyn wants to come too.’ Xavier suggested, not sure if the heartbroken mother would have the will to comb the city of Evergreen for her son. The last search involving one of her children ended in devastation.

  It took a few minutes, but Xavier managed to nudge the small rodent awake. She slept for little more than an hour; a pallid red filled her half-open eyes as she wordlessly gazed at Xavier.

  He sighed. “I’m really sorry to wake you right now, but, uh...we wanted to know if you wanted to come look for Ben with us.” The wolf quickly regretted his decision, feeling like a cold-hearted jerk for cutting the poor mother’s sleep so short. If only the circumstances could accommodate restful slumber.

  “I-it’s okay if you don’t want to.” Janet stepped in, concerned for Evelyn’s physical and mental state. The squirrel’s legs struggled to lift the rest of her tired body up on its fours; it felt like dead weight to her.

  “I-” Evelyn grunted as she forced herself up with trembling limbs. “I...I want my son...I want ‘im safe…I’ll go...”

  “You look really bad; are you sure-” Janet started, but Evelyn protested.

  “...I want to ‘old my baby again...you won’t stop me…”

  The squirrel’s eyes pleaded with hers. Despite the hurt they carried, there was an unwavering tenacity in them that burrowed into the wolf’s soul. It was that of a mother who fought for her children no matter how grim the horizon was...no matter how much pain her mind and body were in. Her son was first on her mind.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  There was no way Janet would debate her; the four wolves and the squirrel would search for Ben. They’d overturn every rock, climb every tree, and probe every nook and cranny if that’s what it took. Diane reached Ronald through the hospital’s semi-convoluted array of extensions, but had to leave voicemails for Claudia and Cecilia.

  The family had a brief breakfast and coffee in the motel’s rustic and mostly clean dining room. In the meantime, Marcus divulged to Xavier, Janet, and Evelyn what Rodney told him over the phone (quietly so as not to disturb other diners). Evelyn’s expression grew ashen, thinking she was going to throw up what little there was in her stomach. Marcus urged her to calm down and breathe as he gently rubbed her back with his paw.

  Xavier was about to remark how the rest of Ben’s life was going to be hell until he caught the television screen out of the corner of his eye. He would’ve otherwise ignored it, but a caption at the bottom of the screen wrested his attention from the others.

  BODY OF MURDERED PINE TRAILS CITIZEN FOUND BESIDE RIVER

  The text was depicted in bold white against a blood-red gradient. This was how NBS always did “breaking news.” The adrenaline-filled music and abrasive colors usually commanded undivided attention from the viewer.

  “Guys!” Xavier whisper-shouted to get his family’s attention and gestured to the screen.

  An orange-brown jackal with various black spots on his groomed fur faced the camera. He donned a somber expression as he gripped the Channel Eight mic in his right paw. Behind him was a small grove cordoned off by police and yellow tape that read “Crime Scene: Do not Cross.” The river and a section of hiking trail were visible on the left side of the screen.

  “It’s not a good morning today in Evergreen.” The jackal started, his voice deep and sonorous. “Last night, a body was found in the wooded area behind me on this usually calm hiking trail. A report from the Evergreen Coroner Lab has identified the victim as Peter Avery, citizen of the small, neighboring town of Pine Trails.”

  The family’s collective jaw hit the floor. Did Rodney inform the media already? Marcus’ lips parted slightly to reveal gritted teeth; he thought Ronald and Evelyn should’ve had first say in talking to the media.

  “Only one person claims to have witnessed what happened to Peter Avery last night. She says she witnessed another squirrel kill him, and while not proven, investigation at the coroner lab has revealed a potential suspect in his murder.”

  “NO!” Marcus barked, startling everyone in the room. Rage coursed through his veins; he’d never been this angered over his fifty-two years of existence.

  “Print analysis shows that Benjamin Avery, the victim’s older brother, was with him the night he died. As of now, he is the only suspect linked to his murder. More to come as evidence is released.”

  Marcus wanted to hurl his coffee mug at the screen. His wife noticed his tightened grip on the handle and gently took his wrist with her paw. She felt his heated pulse and attempted to calm him with her touch.

  “Marcus…”

  He didn’t look at her, but still loosened his hold. “I’m sorry…”

  Meanwhile, Evelyn wanted to scream at the slick, well-manicured jackal on the screen as he delivered those lies. She knew he was only being fed the story from the station, but his words ignited a caustic fury in her heart because this was not what Rodney told Marcus. She didn’t know if the bat talked to the media and royally fumbled his words, but what he divulged to Marcus wasn’t anything like the reporter insinuated.

  ...Ben had nothing to do with Peter’s death.

  -

  This was the first time in Rodney’s life he wanted to kill someone. He was tuned in to NBS's radio broadcast on his miniature headset while flying home that morning. It was menial listening until they putrefied the airwaves with the same story the Averys heard. He sped to the ground, landed away from other people, and fumbled through his bag for his phone. Heads were going to roll.

  Five minutes later...

  “Who the HELL fed your station that crock of sh-balogna?!” He snarled into his phone. “It’s all LIES; there was NO murder!”

  Frederick Vance, executive producer of NBS, yawned as the bat yelled. The meerkat leaned back in his suede leather chair. “Look buddy, we got the facts from a reliable source. Can’t help if you don’t like it.”

  “You ran this story without even hearing from me or Peter’s family. This is defamation and I WILL press charges whether or not the family does.”

  Frederick stifled a snort. “That would be amusing. Look, I got an important meeting soon so feel free to call back in like, I don’t know…” He gave a casually pensive exhale. “Two hours?”

  “I’m not kidding; don’t you dare hang-”

  A dial tone sharply cut him off. The riled bat redialed a few more times, but Vance’s secretary didn’t pick up. He relented and uttered a tired but earnest prayer before swooping back into the sky. He wanted to go home and sleep, but now his mind was preoccupied with finding out the cretin who went behind his and the Avery’s backs and fed NBS those lies.

  “Those cockroaches smeared an innocent child over the airwaves...God, help me against these sinful thoughts; I want really, really bad things to happen to them.”

  Meanwhile, the sheriff Rodney relayed his findings to earlier whistled as he drove to the bank to cash his check from NBS.

  -

  The next day, back in Bill’s house

  “Here ya go.” Bill lightly slid Ben’s plate before the young squirrel. Ben’s nose absorbed the sweet, buttery aroma of his food. His hand immediately seized the silver fork angled diagonally on his napkin and vigorously sliced off a bite-sized morsel of pancake. Bill observed him studiously from across the table, not touching his own plate yet.

  “Excited about your food there?”

  “Mhm!” He covered his mouth with his left hand to catch the flakes.

  “Your folks starve ya or somethin'?” The bear casually noted, making the squirrel nearly choke when he tried to swallow. He caught his breath before answering.

  “N-no! Uh, I, uh…” Ben’s ears and tail drooped. “I’m sorry...”

  “Hey, it’s no problem.” Bill smiled reassuringly. “Just makin’ conversation.”

  Mildly bewildered, Ben shrugged and finished the pancake. He was about to attack the hash brown when he suddenly stopped. Bill was about to take his first bite when he noticed Ben hang his head in shame.

  “Oh…no…”

  “What’s wrong, son?”

  “I...w-we were supposed to pray first...we always do it at home but I forgot…” Ben’s paws covered his face as tears formed. “I-I’m so bad…”

  “Uh, you know what, I’ll pray. Uh, bow your head, close your eyes, and...what else? Oh yeah, fold your hands.” Bill promptly set the fork-impaled egg in its original spot and bowed his head. Ben quickly did as he said and patiently awaited Bill to speak.

  “God, uh, thank ya for, well, everything and the food and, ya know, the house an’ everything. And…” He subtly lifted an eyelid to see if Ben was still with him. “Oh, and thank ya for...oh yeah, my wonderful guest! I, uh, pray that he will experience peace and happiness forever and ever. Anyways, if you can hear me. Amen...Oh wait, I forgot to say in Jesus’ name. Phew, that was close!” He chuckled. “But yeah, that’s all.”

  Ben was so confused by the prayer that he nearly forgot to say amen. He wanted to remark on what a weird prayer it was, but didn’t want to insult the person feeding and sheltering him. He returned to his flaky rectangle of potato and Bill, his hard-boiled egg.

  Breakfast continued without any sounds from the cellar. The mystified squirrel looked in its direction every so often, expecting a thud or groan any second.

  Did the water heater fix itself over night?

  After a sip of orange juice, Ben finally spoke up. “Uh, Bill?”

  “Yes?”

  “Uh…” Ben anxiously rubbed the back of his neck. “You, uh, said you wanted to tell me something? About, uh, the voices and stuff?”

  Bill nodded, acknowledging his query but finishing off a gulp of black coffee first. “Yes, I did say that.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin and fixed a casual gaze on the child. “The truth is that you were hearing things.”

  “...wha-?”

  “You imagined those sounds. The thudding was real, but the voices and the scratching weren’t.”

  Bill expected the blank stare on Ben’s visage. “I..I don’t...what?”

  “Your mind played tricks on you. Haven’t ya noticed it’s been real quiet all morning? No voices, scratches, or anything?”

  “B-but...what about, uh, the bangs?”

  “That was the water heater, which you did hear. I fixed it up this morning which is why ya haven’t heard it. Ya noticed the water was hot when you took a bath, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah...but-”

  “The other noises were an illusion. Given your state, it doesn’t surprise me one bit.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “You might not, but I’ll try to help ya.” Bill cleared his throat, causing Ben to straighten his posture. “Your mind’s experiencing all sorts of trouble right now; you killed your brother, you ran away from your family, you think the police are comin’ to get ya, and you’re in a stranger’s house.”

  Ben nodded along with his head hung in shame; he couldn’t refute any of these charges. His brother’s empty stare and lifeless body would forever remind him.

  “And because it’s all happened so fast, your mind is all confused and doesn’t know what to do. If all sorts of bad things happened to me at the same time, I’d be confused too.”

  Ben nodded wordlessly. It was true; yesterday he didn’t know if he should find his family or go and rot somewhere. He was stranded on an island surrounded by a turbulent sea of aimless desolation.

  “And,” Bill took another quick sip of his coffee, “your mind will imagine things when it’s confused or hurting. I’ll think of an example…” He paused for a few seconds. “Okay, ya watch cartoons?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Ever see a scene where they’re in a desert and they’re all thirsty and hot, and they see a paradise in the distance?”

  “Oh, uh, i-isn’t it called, uh, a...mirage, or something?” He recalled an episode of Mighty Space Tigers from a few Saturdays ago where the crew crash-landed in a desert on a distant planet, and Hunter, the crew’s captain, used that word. The space-faring felines thought they saw palm trees and water far away, but it was a hallucination.

  “Yes,” Bill nodded, “and I believe that’s what your mind did. You thought you heard something, but it wasn’t there.”

  “B-but why'd I hear voices and scratches?”

  “This is what I think...it sounded like you heard someone trying to escape, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That really could’ve been, well…” He narrowed his gaze slightly at Ben. “yourself, trying to escape.”

  Ben’s eyes shifted back and forth. “Wha-”

  “You feel like you’re trapped in a situation you can’t control or escape, and that voice and scratching ya heard was you trying to break free of your problems. I’d say...just like someone in a desert looking for water that’s not there...you’re someone looking for a normal life again, but sadly...ya can’t have it back.”

  The child’s heart sank. Bill leaned a little closer, not taking his eyes off him.

  “Deep down...your soul believes you can have your life back...but it’s all a mirage. Peter’s not coming back...nothing or no one you loved will come back.”

  Ben looked into his expression to find a shred of hope...any chance of salvation. Tears welled up in the squirrel’s eyes.

  “I-I wanna go home…please...” Ben broke into a sob, but Bill grunted sharply. Ben gasped when he witnessed some of the warmth in the bear’s face evaporate.

  “No...it’s all over for ya.”

  “I-I miss m-my-”

  “STOP.” Bill stood from his chair and his face nearly wrinkled into a scowl, making the squirrel back into a corner of his chair. “It hurts, but face it...your life’s over! You KILLED your brother; do ya think your parents ever wanna see ya again? Do ya think there’s any way they’ll just forgive ya and pretend it never happened?”

  “I-I-”

  “And ya think some magic old man in the sky’s just gonna wipe away all your problems?” Bill shook his head. “He. Does. Not. CARE! Why wouldja pray to some God every morning when He let your little brother DIE for no damn reason?! Why didn’t He help ya? Think!”

  Bill’s massive stature eclipsed the sunlight streaming through the window behind him, casting the child in a chilling shadow. The little squirrel trembled and cried with his face buried into the cushion. Bill softened his complexion and sighed. He walked around to Ben’s side of the table.

  “I’m sorry...didn’t mean to come off so angry and callous.” He laid an assuring paw on the squirrel’s heaving frame, though his touch made Ben tense up even more. “I’m not mad at ya, I’m just...mad at what happened to ya and how this world’s treated ya. Ben, look up at me.”

  The bear gently tilted Ben’s little head up with a finger and stooped to make eye contact with him. His sturdy gaze arrested the child’s attention like a stern but caring father.

  “Listen carefully, son...what I said was harsh...but you know I’m right. You miss your mom and dad, but they don’t miss you. Do ya really want to live the rest of your life with them, knowing what you did? How could they possibly love you now, knowing how much you hurt them? On top of that...how about living your life knowing you ended your brother’s life? Is the pain worth it? Is your life worth living knowing you made a mistake you can never, ever fix?”

  “But I miss them...and I-I, uh...maybe they’ll forgive me…?” Ben argued, his sentiments from yesterday shifting.

  Bill slowly shook his head. “You killed their son...they can’t. The pain you caused them and yourself is too much…this is why I can’t let you go home.”

  Ben felt his insides freeze.

  “My son...I want to protect you from a life of pain…” The bear gently cupped Ben’s little head in his paw. “And that’s why,” he lightly exhaled, a warm smile gracing his face.

  “...I will help you peacefully leave this world.”

  -

  The previous day, in Rodney’s lab

  The bat just about dropped his scalpel after seeing what his last incision revealed. It was expected, though a fear in the back of Rodney’s mind during examination told him it might not be there. Given the circumstances, it was the best thing he could’ve found. The substance inside Peter’s chest cavity brought about a bittersweet revelation. The witness’ account turned out to be mistaken on all fronts; it didn’t help Peter in any way, but it meant everything for Ben.

  Water.

  Inside the lungs.

  What this meant was that Peter did not perish at the pounding and pressing of his brother’s hands...he drowned.

  He died well before his brother found him.

  As Rodney photographed the evidence with moderately jittery hands, his mind dwelt on other pieces of information. He still needed to make sense of the other factors.

  “Why did the hare think it was Peter calling for help? Why were Ben’s pawprints all over his chest? Why was Peter’s foot broken? Why were his ribs shattered?”

  The wearied bat poured himself a small cup of coffee in the break room to mull it over. The hare, the pawprints, the ribs; all of it swirled about in his brain like a macabre riddle.

  “Hmm...the foot was broken, but Ben’s prints weren’t on it...but...I can’t think of why he'd hit a dead body like that over and over...and why the chest? It doesn’t make-”

  A sudden, horrid realization made him stop mid-thought. A queasy sensation filled the pit of his stomach as he rode along this new train of thought.

  “Oh no...Ben...He must’ve thought that...that Peter was still alive!” The images and orientation of the pawprints coursed through his mind again. “He found his brother by the river and,...since he was dead, he was completely still. However...Ben must’ve thought he was alive for some reason; probably blind optimism, and his optimism chalked Peter’s stillness to mere unconsciousness. Being at the river, he likely thought water in his lungs was the culprit. That means he wasn’t beating up his little brother nor trying to murder him…those pawprints came from attempted chest compressions...he was trying to save his life...”

  ...a life that vanished long before he could ever get there.

  “The ribs and the foot? Ben couldn’t have been strong enough to break those on his own, even if he tried. Peter must’ve fallen into the river upstream somewhere and procured those injuries from all the rocks. A tiny creature like him would easily get smashed and contorted by those things…” Rodney shuddered. “And the voice the hare heard...that wasn’t Peter, that was Ben. He called for help because he realized his efforts weren’t working, and he would’ve fallen deeper into panic. He would’ve hoped that someone would help wake Peter up, and the hare showed up...By then...she’s witnessing Ben’s frantic efforts to revive his brother. She thinks he’s pounding the life out of him, but instead she’s seeing a little boy desperately trying to get water out of his brother’s lungs. She screams murder, and...in a bout of shock and horror, thinking he really did kill his brother...Ben runs away…”

  And now there’s an innocent kid out there who thinks he murdered his little brother...after trying so hard to save him.

  Rodney abandoned his sense of composure and dissolved into tears.

  -

  Bill gathered his and the squirrel’s plate and carried them to the sink; he couldn’t keep the jovial grin off his face even if he tried. “I have something wonderful to show ya in a bit; I hope you’re excited!”

  Ben didn’t reply; his brain’s neurons were firing so chaotically the bear’s words were white noise.

  “Ben?” Bill peered at the little squirrel, who appeared to be on the verge of hyperventilating. Small, intermittent screams erupted from his mouth as his reality set in. Bill set the ceramic plates down and calmly walked over to him. “Son, please calm down.”

  Ben gazed at him with eyes ready to burst from their sockets; his heartrate and breathing intensified when Bill scooped him up with his right arm.

  “No! P-please! LET ME GO!” He shrieked at the top of his lungs. A massive, ursine paw gently held his muzzle shut, sealing the child’s screams in his throat.

  “Don’t yell like that, it disturbs the neighbors.” He sternly rebuked him. “You have nothing to fear...I’m not kidnapping or hurting ya; I’m keeping you here because ya need help.” A subtle, knowing smile formed on his face.

  “...And isn’t that why ya came with me?”

  At the same time, the same muffled voice and scratching sound Ben heard last night returned. Bill’s expression grimaced for a half second before returning to its former demeanor. He continued to hold Ben’s mouth shut, but the squirrel squirmed and flailed harder.

  “MFFPFFMFHPHMH!” He clawed at Bill’s paw, trying to pry it off.

  “Well, let’s go see what I have in store for ya.” Bill raised his voice a few decibels then started whistling a random, popular tune from when he was a kid. He carried the crying Ben up the stairs with a casual gait; his whistling drowning out the noise from the basement. When he reached the long hallway at the top of the stairs, he shut the bulky, oak door behind him and bolted it.

  Ben had never been on the second floor of this house. The hallway was wider than the one on the first floor, but there weren’t as many doors. After the motion-sensor light flicked on, Ben noticed pictures on the walls out of the corner of his eye. Baroque-style wooden frames held these photos of what the squirrel assumed was Bill’s family. A few were gray-scale and many were in sepia tones; Ben recognized Bill in those images despite his youthful appearance. He was slightly rounder and often accompanied by a female bear about his age. Other pictures included three shorter bears; all brown but with distinguishable features. Other pictures included what Ben surmised to be other relatives like uncles, aunts, nieces, and nephews.

  Bill stopped at the door at the end of the hallway, finally releasing his paw from the squirrel’s muzzle. “Calmed down now? Sorry I had to do that.”

  “I want to go home!” Ben whined.

  Bill sighed and shook his head. “You’re a confused little boy. One minute, you’re runnin' from your folks ‘cuz you killed your brother and cry about wantin’ to die; next minute you wanna go home.”

  “I-I-” Ben stammered. “I...changed my mind! Let. Me. Go. Home!”

  Bill raised an eyebrow at Ben’s uncharacteristic scowl and gritted teeth. “Ben...I’ve lived more life than you...I’ve gone through things and seen things that are so bad there’s just no turnin’ back. Believe me...I’d love to let ya go back, but I know damn well your family will hate you forever for what you did. You’ll grow up hatin’ your life more and more...and you’ll be wishing you were dead. Son...I’m doing you a big, big favor.”

  Ben shook his head and glared defiantly at Bill. “M-my mom and dad might forgive me-”

  “ENOUGH!” A deep-throated growl erupted from the bear’s gnarled expression. Two rows of sharp, glistening teeth protruded from his mouth as he roared, sending the squirrel into a panic. “I’m doin’ ya a huge kindness ya little punk; least you can do is thank me!” He tapped into Ben’s sense of guilt.

  “I’m s-sorry!” He wailed; his little paws over the top of his head. “Th-thank you for h-helping m-me! I s-swear!”

  The bear’s expression softened as he closed his mouth and mellowed his narrowed eyes. He stroked Ben gently along his back like an affectionate pet-owner. “I should be nicer; you’re a little kid after all. Now, how ‘bout I show ya how I plan to help ya. Trust me, you’ll love it.”

  Despite the playful sparkle in Bill’s eye, Ben wanted nothing to do with what was beyond this door.

  -

  Ten years ago

  Bill gazed over the sea of buildings and street lights that inundated Las Píceas. The sprawling metropolis teemed with life as people nearly four hundred feet below the bear attended parties, clubs, movies, bars, and whatever frivolities everyone planned that Friday night. It was the onset of summer vacation, and much of the joviality stemmed from college students finally freed from the shackles of the school year.

  The grizzly standing on his balcony put a paw to his face, unable to handle the view any longer. His shoulders heaved as he started to cry.

  “Life all around me...and all I feel is death…”

  The bear’s eyes flicked upward into the firmament. Though light pollution muddled its glory, Bill perceived many of the celestial bodies countless miles over his head. A silent prayer escaped his lips in the form of a cold mist. It vanished as soon as he formed it.

  “God...why…why wouldja let it come to this?” Bill shook his head mournfully.

  He heard the glass door slide open behind him, but didn’t turn to look.

  “Donna…”

  His wife wordlessly approached him and lovingly embraced him. He felt her head against the nape of his neck and her arms about his chest. He held one of her paws with his.

  “Bill...my love...my anchor…” She whispered.

  Bill remained silent for several seconds, unable to come to grips with their new reality.

  “Donna...I can’t...” He shook his head.

  She squeezed his shoulders affectionately. “Don’t be afraid! Please, trust me...it’s...the right thing to do.”

  “But...how can I?” He faced her. “A-after twenty-five years together...my beautiful wife...”

  “But that’s why you should do this! Please...there’s no other way…” Her sullen eyes met his. “I can’t take the pain no more…”

  “There must be another way-”

  “Bill!” Her eyes watered. “I...I can’t go through with this hell anymore...Have mercy, I’m beggin’ you!”

  Bill tightened his grip on her paw and leaned to kiss her on the cheek. His will weakened as her pleas melted his weakening fortitude. The agony in her face, the lips that would never form a smile again, the eyes which used to glisten with spirit…

  They both knew it would never come back.

  Not after what Donna did.

  “Bill, I just...I just want my sufferin’ to be over…We had a good run, but...I can’t go another day with this grievous knot in my soul…”

  With a heavy sigh and heavy heart, her husband uttered the sentence she longed to hear since the car accident.

  “...It's...” Bill wiped tears from his eyes. “17, 4,...19.”

  Bill sensed his soul depart as he uttered each numeral. Her paw squeezed his shoulder one last time.

  “...Thank you.” She planted a gentle kiss on his tear-dampened cheek. “You did the right thing…”

  He didn’t answer or even look at her; not that he didn’t reciprocate those feelings, but that he didn’t want her to behold the anguish in his face.

  He remained on the balcony, keeping his tears to himself while his wife performed what she set out to do. He couldn’t stand to watch any of it.

  The next time Bill laid his eyes on Donna, she was lying supine on her side of the bed. Her eyes were closed and the corners of her mouth turned upward into a faint smile. Her paws were positioned one over the other on her belly; the usual pose she was in whenever she tried to relax or nap on a warm day. Her pink Sonos-brand headphones were situated over her ears, and Bill could hear Debussy’s “La cathédrale engloutie” muffled against them at a moderate volume. She was listening to one of her favorite tapes; always having loved the subtle, pacifying tones of impressionist music.

  The climax was the last thing she heard before slipping serenely into the afterlife.

  Bill listened to the piece’s final notes taper into the still air. A chilled silence filled the dimly-lit room as he realized she was gone. She’d know no more pain. No more guilt. No more interminable distress.

  Freedom.

  The widower crumbled at her bedside and wept. He clasped her left paw with his own and cried into it. It would take him some days to harden his conscience and convince himself he indeed did the right thing.

  Rescue her from the agony of a convicted soul. The memories she’d otherwise live with of her car careening out of control and slamming into those hapless pedestrians…

  “She was right…ya can’t be forgiven from that…

  ...I did her a huge favor.”

  -

  Ben thought the room was going to be drab and dark, like a prison cell isolated light-years from civilization and ensconced within the bowels of the deepest, dreadful dungeon. There would’ve been a scaffold with a trap door in it, and a noose narrow and taut enough to suspend Ben’s lifeless frame over the floor upon the door’s release. He could already feel his axis bone severing his spinal cord. It was a thought he would’ve entertained longer the day before.

  But now...he pictured his dad slicing the rope with a saw and saving his life.

  “You’re my son and I love you...nothing can ever change that.”

  Not even Bill.

  The room was nothing like Ben expected. The walls and ceiling were painted light blue, and white cloud patterns as gentle as a whisper from heaven. A single bed occupied the center of the pastel-green carpeted room. It looked as soft and fluffy as a marshmallow. The color scheme reminded Ben of a thriving, fruitful glen in the heart of spring, and the bed was a serene cloud standing upon its verdant surface. Against the wall was a single balsam table fitted with various drawers, and above it, a twenty-seven inch television was mounted in the wall. Its black, cubic form clashed garishly with the azure sky behind it, but was by no means hostile.

  Why did this look more like a kid’s bedroom than a place a life would end?

  Bill set Ben down onto the bed, purposefully laying him on his back so he could fully experience the swaddling comfort it had to offer. “Not bad, yeah?” Bill asked, walking to the small desk.

  Ben shook his head. “It’s really, really soft…” He uttered in a dreamy voice. “But...I still wanna go-”

  “Not after you see what I’m about to offer ya.” The bear silenced him. “See, you keep thinking I wanna kill ya, but you don’t understand.”

  Ben heard Bill shuffling things about in one of the drawers, but couldn’t see, as his huge body blocked his view.

  “I’m not some horrible killer or psycho who wants to hurt ya...what I have is something that’ll help ya escape all the pain in your life while keepin’ ya alive.”

  “But it sounds like you’re saying it’ll kill me.”

  “No, no!” The grizzly chuckled. “Think of it as a dream. I’m not gonna kill ya, like I said, but I’m gonna give you something that’ll be like a very, very long dream. A long, pleasant dream, really. You like nice dreams?”

  “Yeah…?” Ben’s voice tapered; modulating into a question.

  “I knew it’d confuse ya, but trust me, it really works. You see...I made some medicine about ten years ago that lets ya sleep and have all the nice dreams you want. You don’t have to wake up and live in a world where your brother's dead...you can have dreams where he’s alive and your family loves ya and accepts ya no matter what. You can play forever and ever.” Bill turned to face him with his familiar, knowing grin. “That’s not death...that’s nirvana.”

  Ben stood, not sure he heard Bill correctly. “A f-forever dream? But...how? I’ll still die, w-won’t I?”

  Bill looked him squarely in the eyes with a straight face. “No.”

  “No?! H-how?” Ben tilted his head.

  “The pill has a chemical that stops your body from getting older, all the while engaging your brain’s cerebral cortex to give ya continuous dreams. See, people die because the body gets tired from doin’ all its functions for all those years, and parts of it break down. Sure, doctors can help fix ya and help ya feel better, but eventually, parts of you break so much that not even the doctors can help ya anymore. You wonder why you see no one drivin’ old cars anymore? They break from being driven so much; that’s like how our bodies work.”

  Ben nodded along, not fully understanding him, but still drawn in by his confidence.

  “The chemical I put in this medicine makes it so you can sleep all you want, and since your body’s not doing all that work when it’s awake, it doesn’t break down! Ever wonder why ya need to sleep at all?”

  “...Because I’m tired?”

  “Because your body’s been workin’ so much all day, right? Ya wake up, go to school, learn, think, play with your friends, eat, run around some more, and then you go home and do your homework and your chores, and you play with your brother, well, when he was alive, at least.”

  “I have a baby sister too.”

  “But my point is you’re doing so much all day that your body wants to take a break and recharge. That’s why you sleep. If you were sleeping all the time, is your body doing a bunch of work?”

  “Uh...I, uh...guess not?” A prick in Ben’s mind told him Bill wasn’t being completely honest, but the second-grader didn’t have the scientific prowess to prove it. “Uh...but, uh…” Ben rubbed the back of his head. “It doesn’t sound right…I-I don’t want the medicine, uh, thanks…”

  He wanted to mention seeing his parents again, but didn’t want Bill to fly into another rage. Bill sighed and slumped his shoulders. “You’re one du-, er, tough customer. How about…” Bill’s eyes flicked upward pensively for a few seconds before facing Ben. “I show you a video; that way you can see the medicine work.”

  “I don’t want-”

  “You will after watching this.” Bill silenced him with a halting paw. “You wanted my help, and I don’t care how much convincing it’ll take…

  ...you will take the medicine sooner or later.”

  It wasn’t until the grizzly uttered these words that Ben realized there was no window in this room. No vent he could abscond through. No grate in the floor he could slip through and flee.

  There was only the bed he was sitting on.

  His deathbed.

  -

  “How long have ya been hurtin’?” A slightly younger and rounder Bill sat beside a crying kangaroo and offered her a tissue. They appeared to be at the table downstairs, where Bill and Ben had breakfast not long ago.

  “B-been two weeks n-now…” She stuttered, unwilling to face him or the camera. “I c-can’t stop thinkin’ about that day...It’s killing me…”

  “And your husband won’t forgive ya?”

  She shook her head. “No one w-will, a-and I don’t deserve it-” Her sobbing intensified and Bill placed an assuring paw on her shoulder. “I-it was such a stupid, stupid mistake!”

  “And ya know you’ll never feel better...you’ll never forget what you did to your daughter...ever.”

  Her sobbing worsened and Bill pulled her into a hug. Her face was buried into his huge chest, but Ben caught the corner of her eye.

  Immeasurable pain.

  “My baby, I-I’m so sorry! I-I was so EVIL and SELFISH!” She wailed so loudly that it rocked the squirrel to his core. It brought him back to the night he murdered his brother. Subtle sensations of guilt tentacled and slithered their way up from the depths of hell and slowly choked Ben’s heart. The kangaroo pulled from Bill so she could extract a photo she kept in her pouch. Ben recognized the gray-scale image; it was a similar kind of image his mom showed him a few months ago when he asked what he was like as a baby.

  An ultrasound. The one in the kangaroo’s paws was blurry, but recognizable as an unborn baby after her kind.

  “Wh-what happened?!” Ben inquired, tears forming in his eyes.

  Bill paused the video and replied with grave tone. “She killed her baby.”

  The image frozen in the screen paralyzed the squirrel; the mother’s paw touching the fuzzy, gray form of her daughter. She wanted to hold her and bestow as many of life’s blessings on her as she could...to reverse her irreversible decision and bring her into this world like she intended.

  Ben wished he was back at Blueberry Grove that day...if he’d only turned around sooner and stopped his brother from scurrying up that tree.

  Remorse.

  Regret.

  Guilt.

  Ben came to the startling conclusion that Bill wasn’t only showing him this video to convince him to take the pill...it was to show that he was the kangaroo. The will Ben had to go home wafted away bit by bit as the video portrayed the raw, burning agony of the kangaroo. Not completely, but it was like a pounding wave eroding a once-sturdy crag.

  Both were killers that couldn’t be forgiven.

  Bill hit play again and Ben continued watching in chilled silence. Bill and his patient wound up in the same room Ben sat in now. When the bear offered her the pill, she didn’t hesitate, practically swiping it from his paw and ingesting it without the aid of water. For the split second Ben noticed it, it was minuscule and bore a pink casing. It looked generic, like it could’ve been anything.

  “Ben,” Bill deviated his attention briefly. “Watch her closely. She just swallowed that pill and I want you to pay attention to how she reacts.”

  Ben’s eyes were transfixed on the screen. The morose marsupial laid on the bed and turned to the side. For a few minutes the squirrel didn’t detect anything amiss, but eventually, her eyelids slowly shut, her breathing slowed, and the side of her mouth visible to the camera subtly turned upward.

  Was she smiling?

  Several more minutes ticked by. Her breathing maintained a steady cadence, and occasionally her lips would part slightly into a gentle, but happy laugh.

  “How does she look to you?” Bill asked the dumbfounded rodent.

  “Like...she’s having a nice dream…”

  The bear tousled his head fur. “Exactly! Are ya gettin’ it now? Do I seem like a kidnapper and a killer to you? Look what I did for this poor mother; sobbing and losing her mind thirty minutes ago, and now...in a pleasant, heavenly dream that will go on forever. THAT’S the help I’m trying to give you! You want a life of hellish pain, or this?”

  He tapped the screen lightly with the remote. “And you’re not even payin’ for it!”

  Though most of Ben’s flimsy resolve continued to melt away, a tiny ember remained stalwart in his heart. He still longed for his family…

  But this alternative didn’t look so bad anymore. The kangaroo looked so peaceful and content; she must’ve been playing with the daughter she never had in unperturbed, carefree merriment.

  Ben was conflicted.

  “So,” Bill clapped his paws quietly, “just say the word and I’ll give you your medicine.” He eyed the squirrel expectantly.

  “I...uh…can I, uh, think about it?”

  Bill fettered his exasperation with the child, assuming he still loved his family, a family that couldn’t possibly reciprocate that love. “...Sure...but in the meantime, I can’t let ya leave. Like I said, you WILL take the pill.”

  “Th-that's kidnap-”

  “I don’t want ya goin’ out there and tellin' everyone about this pill; it’s not kidnapping at all.”

  “If it’s so good, why can’t I tell anyone?”

  “Because…” Bill paused to think, “I don’t have a lot of ‘em. I’d run out really fast, faster than I can make ‘em. For that reason, I can’t let ya go and blab about it...You don’t want to be guilty of makin' them run out, do ya?”

  A part of him said no, the other said yes...it was a part of him that wanted to believe someone would’ve loved and forgiven that kangaroo.

  Even if God would’ve been the only one.

  Sadly, the kangaroo would never find out.

  Ben’s attention returned to the video to see if anything different would happen. Her eyes and mouth were still closed and expression serene, but something was off.

  “Hey!” Ben gasped, “Wh-what happened-”

  Bill, distracted with fumbling for something in a drawer and forgetting the tape was still playing, swiftly reached for the cord behind the desk and pulled it. The TV shut off instantly. “Huh? What?”

  “D-did she stop breathing?!” Ben hopped off the bed and his tail bristled in a defensive stance. “Wh-what’s going-"

  “No, no! The tape froze because it’s old, silly!” Bill scooped him up playfully. “You know what would be fun? Cartoons. You can watch ‘em while you think, okay?”

  Before Ben could raise his voice further, Bill forced his muzzle shut with his paw and hummed loudly over his stifled yelps.

  As well as the persistent sounds from the basement.

  -

  The night Peter passed away

  After Rachel consumed a quarter of her tiny bowl of Morrison’s Famous Mac ‘n Cheese, she announced she was full and tired. Claudia, contrived smile still on her face, picked her up and gave her a bath, helped her brush her teeth, tucked her into bed, and uttered a prayer with her. She tried to keep it as casual and innocuous as possible so as not to scare the child. In reality, Claudia wanted to scream her beleaguered heart out to God.

  “Goodnight sweetie!” She turned to leave.

  “My nightnight!” Rachel squealed.

  “Your what?”

  “The nightnight! Pwease can you turn it on?” She clutched her mouse plushie.

  A confused Claudia furrowed her brow until she noticed the panda-nightlight plugged into the wall. “Oh, you want this on? Sure!”

  The aunt flicked it on, bathing the room in a cozy, pastel blue. Rachel contentedly nestled deeper under her blankie.

  “Goodnight.” Claudia nuzzled her and kissed her on the forehead. “I love you. Sweet dreams.”

  “I wuv you too aunt Cwaudia.”

  Claudia closed her door partially, but before she could think about wandering outside and howling in despair, Cecilia stopped her. She held a piece of paper in her hand and a concerned expression on her tired face.

  “Sis,” the squirrel whispered, “look what Ben drew.”

  “Hm?” The wolf accepted the sheet her sister handed her and flipped it over to look. Her jaw hit the floor. “Wh-why…?”

  “I knew Ben struggled with being sad...but I didn’t expect this.” Cecilia shook her head dolefully. “He really needs help.”

  Neither could stand to look at the image again. How could one gaze upon an image of her nephew...decapitated, torso and legs strewn about in a sea of blood and viscera. Beneath the image was scrawled three words in red crayon.

  “stoopid litle shit”

  -

  While Bill tried to keep Ben occupied with the television in the family room, he was doing some business in the basement.

  “Thought I had it here…” He sharply moved and shuffled various items about on a shelf. “If she hid it, I swear I’ll rip her fuckin' head off...Ah, there it is.”

  His paw grasped the neck of the item he was looking for and extracted it with great care, as though handling a newborn chick. It was a 2002 Lakeridge Merlot, his libation of choice for his date tonight. The temperature of the cellar helped keep the liquor cold and ideal for intoxicating enjoyment.

  He quietly stepped out of the basement. As he started to close the door, the doorbell chimed.

  “Delivery for William Rakowsky?”

  “Comin’!” He darted up the stairs two at a time, careful not to drop the bottle. He set it gently on the counter and tended to the delivery man, or chimp, in this case.

  “Will? Here, sign this.” The chimp handed him the box and form he needed to sign as proof he got the package.

  “Mhm.” The bear accepted the blue pen and hurriedly signed his name under the glow of the porch light. He forgot the brass window cranks he ordered a week ago were to arrive today. It seemed more an annoyance than a wanted item at the moment; he had two things on the stove and something in the oven he needed to get to. If he burnt anything, his perfect date with Chantal would be ruined.

  He thanked the delivery guy and nearly slammed the door in his face. He haphazardly tossed the box onto the counter and checked on the salmon he was searing.

  Phew, not over-cooked!

  He remembered the Merlot he intended to chill and placed it in the freezer. He ran through his mental checklist again, knowing Chantal would be arriving soon, maybe.

  “Food, wine, candles, movie, snacks...oh, mouthwash, the silk sheets...oh, and Ben can’t be out here.”

  Ten minutes later, he caught sight of the lady bear’s car through the kitchen window. He called to Ben.

  “She’s here, Ben.”

  No reply.

  “Ben? Hate to be rude, but ya gotta scram.” Bill left the food to check on him. He was on the bear-sized beanbag Bill let him use, but his eyes were closed, as though silently swimming through deep thoughts.

  “Earth to Ben!” Bill raised his voice, causing him to jump.

  “Wh-what?”

  “Time to go to your room; remember we talked about this?”

  “Oh...uh, yeah...sorry.”

  Ben scrambled out of the beanbag, clumsily stumbling onto his back before rolling onto his fours and darting away. The decision was mutual to send Ben away during this date; he didn’t like it even when he saw his own parents kiss. Stuff like that was icky and known to spread cooties.

  From his room, Ben faintly heard the two bears chatter and laugh as they had dinner. He stuck his tongue out in disgust and rifled through the toy chest to find something fun to play. At least his kidnapper allowed him toys.

  But playtime was mere distraction. As he assembled the colored blocks into something that resembled a tiger (he was a Mighty Space Tigers fan after all), his thoughts were fixated on something much bigger. When he was in the TV room earlier, he listened to Bill go into the basement and come back out some minutes later. He didn’t follow him in, but did listen for strange noises. Voices, thumps, scratches...he heard none of that, but did notice something else. In the midst of Bill’s distraction caused by the delivery man and his much-anticipated date, he forgot something very important...something that demanded the child’s curiosity.

  He never closed the basement door.

  -

  Four hours later

  Ben grinned as he beheld the four tigers he assembled. They were ordinary tigers and not space tigers, mind you, but tigers nonetheless.

  “These’d be so cool for show-and-tell!” His little tail swayed happily. “Peter would’ve thought these were cool too…”

  At that moment, he heard Bill and Chantal’s voices as though they were walking towards his room.

  “NO!” The child darted into the closet; his spine prickled with terror at the thought of seeing the two bears smooch and read gooey love poems to each other. However, he heard their voices and footsteps ascend.

  They went upstairs!

  Ben’s fists clenched in poised excitement and trepidation. He knew Bill would stomp him into a fine powder if he saw him in the basement, but the fact that Bill explicitly forbade him to investigate this enticing enigma demanded Ben investigate it. Besides, he may as well soak up as much adventure and exploration while forced to stay in this house; turn his finite, wall-bordered world into an extravagant escapade!

  He waited several more minutes to make sure neither bear came downstairs again before creaking his door ajar. It swished open softly and quietly, revealing the dark hallway outside. No voices. Bill and Chantal must’ve been asleep.

  Now was his chance.

  As quietly as a bold mouse, the little squirrel tiptoed through the sliver of light and slipped into the protective darkness...at least until the motion-sensor lights flicked on. He froze...did Bill have a way of knowing these lights were on even though Ben was on the floor below? His little heart thudded in tense rhythm as he expected the grizzly to come down and lock him in his room.

  Nothing.

  Ben remained silent as he crept and slithered slyly like a pint-sized ninja through the hallway and into the dining room. The motion lights turning on set him on edge, but once more, there was not a peep from upstairs. He eyed the standing plants meant to block his view of the stairwell.

  “Ooh scary plants!” Ben smirked. “Are you going to stop me with your big, scary leaves?”

  Ben’s slender frame squeezed effortlessly between the ceramic pots. He stood at the top of the stairwell and beheld the door. It beckoned him to plumb its secrets and explore its possibilities.

  Seeing that Bill forgot to close it before going to bed caused a rare, open-mouthed grin to spawn on Ben’s face.

  “YES YES YES!” He sped down the stairs as though a vast forest of acorns and walnuts awaited him on the other side. With a determined snout and ready paw, he nudged the door open a little more. It was dark, but that only made it more exciting. He knew Bill was hiding something down here, and it was time the boy unearthed the forbidden secret.

  His tiny body slipped between the door and frame, and the motion lights flicked on. They were slightly brighter than anticipated, making him shield his eyes and squint momentarily. Soon, he was to lay his hungry eyes on a new world.

  “Oh man, what could be in here-”

  “MMPFFMPFMHPFFMM!”

  “AAH!” Ben yelped and readied a defensive stance. The muffled voice was much closer and louder than before. When he regained his vision, his eyes darted here and there to detect its source.

  “MMFFPMHMMFF!” The voice was accompanied by thuds pounding against some unbending, wooden surface. Ben’s head immediately turned to the furthest corner. Various racks and shelves blocked his view, but the sounds were unmistakably coming from that direction.

  “C-coming!” He scurried frantically through the messy heap of tools and personal affects long forgotten. The shelves of items blocked some of the light from reaching this corner, but Ben could clearly see what was here.

  An old, discarded toy chest. It was decorated with rot and ornate designs from a decade now only a memory. Atop its lid laid a pile of dusty books. When the voice and thuds came again, the lid shifted.

  Someone was trapped in there.

  Ben’s legs grew weak and his paws sweaty. Realizing the dire situation this was, he hopped onto the lid and frantically slid the books off with jittery, tremulous paws. His eyes occasionally looked to the door; he didn’t want to think what would happen if Bill caught him.

  “A-almost th-there…”

  Book by book, the weight on the lid lessened. Each slap the books made as they struck the cement made Ben wince, but he didn’t know how to be quieter about it. After the last book, Science Encyclopedia for Fourth Graders, fell atop the pile, Ben hopped onto the floor.

  “O-opening now.” Blood pounded relentlessly through his brain. With as much might his little arms could muster, he heaved the lid open. He wasn’t strong enough to open it all the way, but the scent of another animal filled his nostrils immediately.

  Forming enough space between the lid and box, he climbed onto the ledge of the newly-formed gap. With more leverage at his disposal, he used his whole body to foist the lid open the rest of the way. He gazed at the being the toy chest held captive.

  Muffled.

  Bound with cords.

  Dirty.

  Cheeks stained with countless tears.

  Ben was speechless...partly from shock… and partly because a buried, rusty area of his memory bank attempted to place this captive somewhere in his past. He couldn’t place the victim’s name, but her bug-eyed expression showed she remembered him well...frighteningly well.

  She was a gray squirrel.