Alex Reynard
The Library
Alex Reynard's Online Books
Once the skunk and mutt were back outside (and the glowering Sergeant Angelbull had departed from their presence), Junella finally let her composure slip. A grin of insane glee spread to her face. "Hold me up, Zinc! I think I might pass out!!"
He actually did, rushing in and asking, "You feelin' sick?"
"No, dum-dum, I'm feelin' GREEN! Did you hear her!? An extra million!! Just think of what I can do with all that!!" Her brain blazed with whirling fantasies. "I can finally get my own place instead of dodgin' the rent at Mia's! Dine at ritzy restaurants! Drive a bigass car! Hire some poor sap to clip my toenails!!"
Zinc stepped away. "Well, I got a car. I'll letcha ride in it at least."
Her mania popped like a gum bubble. She blushed. "Oh, right. You mentioned that yesterday. Where is it?"
Zinc scanned around to get his bearings. "Should be... just a few blocks from here. You know Bungalow Doodaddy's?"
She did a double-take. "Sounds like the name of a clown college."
"Nah. Auto body shop. C'mon." He waved a wrench to the East and headed there.
Junella crossed the circular park alongside him. The grass felt nice under her feet. The lights were kept bright around city hall, so it was just about as close as one could get to a sunny afternoon. Junella passed picnickers and families playing with their kids. At the crosswalk, Zinc waited for the light to change. She saw yet another of those "Keep Coryza Beautiful And Safe" signs that were everywhere. She grimaced, but had to admit, somebody was doing something right to keep all these people from going stir crazy in a land where they never saw the sun.
As she followed the mutt across the street towards a coffee shop and a boxing gym, Junella looked around to appreciate just how big Coryza really was. Not just in area but populace. She'd been to some rough areas in Phobiopolis. This much cheerful contentment really shouldn't have been possible.
She thought again about the dents in the walls. She understood why Lady Crynight wanted to keep the public in the dark about them. 'This city is a soap bubble,' she thought. 'There's a hundred kinds of chaos and evil just waiting outside, and this oasis is only here because people believe in it. If they think they ain't safe, the bubble bursts.'
'There's so much more riding on this than just what happens to me,' she realized.
'Or to him,' her mind added, watching a matted brown tail wag back and forth in front of her. The mutt was jabbering cheerfully about something-or-other. Probably his car.
Suddenly another thought struck her. She winced. "Hey, I..."
Zinc's ears perked. He stopped and turned. The boss lady sounded serious. "Something wrong, chief?"
She indicated they should skootch off the sidewalk so other people could pass. "I just realized... I kinda stole your thunder back there. About what you said at the wall, why they didn't just come in during the day."
He waved it off. "Aw. I barely noticed. And you added to it anyway. No skin off my nose."
His response put a snarl on her face. "That's it?"
Zinc cocked his head, perplexed. "Yeah?"
"I mean..." Junella grit her teeth. "I stole your idea. In front of the most important furson in the city! You deserved credit for that. And you're not upset? Not even a little!?"
His ears drooped. "Well, yeah. Sorta. I just didn't think it was worth bringin' up."
She took a deep breath and shook her head. "I don't get you, mutt. Me? I woulda been raising blue hell over it."
"I guess we're just different then," he shrugged. "I'd rather let things slide. Take it easy if I can."
What she sang next was meant as a jab, but came out sounding surprisingly concerned. "Do you know the difference between easy and lazy?"
"I..."
"Maybe you oughtta learn to stand up for yourself a little more."
He looked befuddled. "I thought you told me you're runnin' the show so I should just keep my yap shut?"
The memory slapped her across the face. "I didn't mean for you to..." Junella felt her guts tangle up. She pushed past Zinc and gave him a nudge with her tail. "C'mon, junkpile. Show me these wheels of yours."
Zinc was left flat-footed by the skunk's abrupt shifts.
"Dames," he muttered to himself.
He turned to catch up with the slender stormcloud in a white scarf.
~~*-*-*~~
The body shop was only a couple of blocks further. Zinc's navigation had been right on the money. Junella expected a junkyard, but the place actually looked pretty respectable. Big glass windows at sidewalk-level showcased gleaming specimens on display podiums. Great big painted letters proclaimed:
BUNGALOW DOODADDY'S!
DRIVE FAST! LOOK SHARP!
Bells on the door jangled as Zinc walked in. "Heyyy, pops! How's business?"
Behind the desk was a woolly bobcat who seemed mostly beard. He hopped out of his seat and lit up with a smile. "Zinc, my man! How many weeks it's been? I thought you were gonna run off and let me keep her this time!"
"Never in a million. But thanks for babysittin'." The cat and dog met in the middle of the showroom for a friendly hug.
Junella was startled by how much the little guy reminded her of Eagsyne. Though Mr. Doodaddy seemed much less cantankerous. He and Zinc started to rapidly chitchat about cars. She hung back and let her eyes drift around.
'He keeps the shop clean,' she thought with approval. Polished parts hung up in tidy rows. White tile floors you could eat off of. And the show models looked like they'd driven straight off a magazine cover. Junella drifted towards the front window to admire a dark green military motorcycle. All the more regal and beautiful for how rigidly functional it had been designed. Next to it was some kind of custom job. A chromed-up two-seater with the front and back both narrowing to a deadly edge. It looked built for bisecting pedestrians. She could almost feel her cutlass getting jealous.
She reached out her paw and watched it touch its reflection. 'I think I'd like to have a car like this for myself someday,' she thought. With that three million payday coming up, it was possible. Expenses would eat away some, but there'd still be plenty left over to build a good life on. 'This could be my big break. For real this time. No more hunting penny jobs. People would come to me.'
Zinc and Bungalow were walking over, arm in arm. The mutt's voice intruded on Junella's thoughts. "...got mufflers like you wouldn't believe. Quiet as a church, trust me. So what do I owe ya for her checkup, doc?"
The bobcat chuckled. "Honestly, I oughtta be the one paying you! She brings in business like a magnet. Every day I get at least one looky-loo stoppin' by to ask, 'What is that thing!?'"
Zinc laughed, then gave a loving pat to the very car Junella was standing beside. "She's a head-turner allright."
Junella's eyes got wide as saucers. "THIS is YOURS!?" she exploded.
Zinc was so startled he jumped back a step. "You don't like her?"
"Jesus, the OPPOSITE!!" She looked back and forth between the classy, gleaming beast of a car, and the tattered tramp who held her keys.
Zinc could read her expression. "Heh. I may not take care of myself. But a man's car is a different story."
Bungalow leaned in. "Who's your ladyfriend, Zinc?"
The canine straightened up and made introductions. "Bungalow, this is Junella. Junella, Mr. Doodaddy."
She quickly shook his hand, still ogling the car.
"Enchanté, madam," the old bobcat purred. "And at the risk of being crude, might I say, you've got a body that'd look just as good in a display window."
Junella narrowed her eyes. Then smirked at his boldness and cocked her booty at him. "You're damn right."
He grinned to shame the Cheshire cat.
Zinc grinned too. "I see you've already met my pride and joy, the Killcanoe."
"Hell of a nickname. Fits though." It was low like a rat rod, but the engine wasn't exposed so Junella had no idea which half it was in. In fact, the front and rear seemed identical. The body was held up by four tall, thin wheels, almost like BMX tires. Exhaust pipes ran along the sides near the bottom. Two pairs of wide headlights jutted out at either end like surprised eyes.
Zinc draped his wrench over the side in a loving hug. "Ain't she a killer-diller?"
"From the look of those sharpened ends, I'd guess literally."
A gleefully bloodthirsty nod. "Yep. You know Dorster? Just down the street from the Tatterdemalion? Makes odd weapons. I brought in the car one day and said, 'Gimme some great big goddam axe heads on her'. After he got done callin' me crazy for a while, he got to work. They're really somethin', huh? Run your finger 'cross one if you dare."
Junella Brox never fled from a dare. She gently traced the car's leading edge. Without any pain at all, her finger split open. A stain like black tea leaked out. "Sweet mama..."
Zinc licked his chops. "Gets useful out in the wilderness. You see a construct comin'? Just drive on through, baby. Cuts through meat and bone like a breeze."
Junella sucked on her finger. "I like this car," she sang reverently. "Though, how'd a hobo like you afford 'er?" she teased.
"It's a lot cheaper when you build 'em yourself from the ground up."
Junella turned her head to check for any signs of bullshitting.
"I can confirm," Bungalow said. "Every time he'd get imaginite in his pocket he'd be back here buying another part from me."
"That, and scavenging every junkpile from here to the Blackdamp. There were nights I thanked God I was already dead and couldn't starve."
Junella boggled at his dedication. He seemed absolutely aimless about everything else.
Zinc indicated the two windshields. "Diamond glass. Shrugs off bullets like raindrops. Hard to get, but worth it. And notice there's no doors? Just two seats back to back. Take a guess what the chassis used to be."
Junella did not know much about cars. But the way he'd said that hinted it was something out of the ordinary. She'd seen this seat configuration before. Her mind clicked. Not seats, cockpits! "Did this usedta be an airplane!?"
"Awriiight! Got it in one!" He gave her a forceful high-five. "There's a graveyard in Scrofula: all kindsa half-buried military shit. Rented a tow truck and dug out a dubya-dubya-one biplane. Clipped its wings, cleaned it like a fish, added some wheels, and sha-ZOW! She flies again!"
Creative, she had to admit. "So which end's the front?"
"Either!!" he said gleefully. "Hop in any way you want and mash the gas. With the wheels set like they are, she's got a damn-near-three-sixty turning radius. And you never have to back her up! Unbeatable mobility! Some guys kit their rides out with a ton of heavy armament. Nah. Just weighs you down! Why outgun what you can outrun?"
Junella was poking around the seats and, indeed, both cockpits had identical dashboards and pedals. The steering wheels were more like sets of handlebars, which made sense for a furson with abnormal hands. And protruding from both sides were mirrored shift rods with 8-ball handles. Nice. "What's she run on?"
"Miniature Dyson sphere," he replied nonchalantly.
She straightened up. "A fucking SUN!?"
"Well... a little one."
"That's still a burning nuclear reactor! And it'd have to be in the center of the car, so that'd place it directly behind... We'd be sitting on it!"
An ingratiating chuckle. "Not the most conventional power source, I concede. Hell, even a Cyrus Tear's more stable. If it started raining money someday, I'd put down the cash to make her bloodpowered. But hey, at least we never gotta change the battery!"
"I wouldn't keep her in the window if I thought she was gonna blow," Bungalow defended.
Junella swept a paw over her forehead, producing exactly the record scratch one would expect. "What the heck. We're already in the afterlife. So, where d'you wanna go with her?"
Zinc tilted his head. "Go? Wherever you want to, I guess."
"I thought you had an idea! I thought that's why you brought up havin' a car!"
"I... I guess, maybe..."
She growled at his hesitation. "Out with it!!"
Bungalow made a gesture indicating, 'I'm just going to head over there now. You two have fun.'
Junella rubbed the bridge of her nose, then tried again, softer. "I told you a minnit ago to assert yerself sometimes. So if you've got something, assert it."
He still looked sheepish. "Aw, you've probably got a better plan. I'll defer. That's peachy with me."
She looked at him straightforwardly. "You know what? I'm gonna be honest with you. I don't know where to go from here."
Zinc was genuinely surprised.
"Short of just heading out into the desert in the direction those uglys came from, I'm blank. I'm starin' at stucco. That's part of why I wanted another head on this. So if you've got an idea, even a wastebasket-feeder, just come right out and hit me witddit." She smiled lopsidedly. "If it sucks, at least maybe it'll jumpstart a better one."
He smiled too, anxiety easing somewhat. Although it was clear he wasn't used to being asked to give his input. "Okay. So I was thinkin', like, if we just ran in commando-style, we don't know what we're runnin' into, right? They might squish us like las cucarachas. So maybe instead, we whip out some spy stuff, yeah? Get some eyes on 'em first?"
Junella nodded appreciatively. "That ain't bad, trashcan. Not bad at all. It'll eat a hole in our budget, but there's gotta be survival supplies or an electronics store somewhere around town."
"Actually..." Zinc clinked his wrenchtips together. "I might know a guy who'll lend us some of his hi-tech for free."
Her paw shot out and squeezed his muzzle shut, not needing another word of convincing. She leaned in, eyes gleaming. "Free is always good. Lead the way."
"Ayf-ayf," he said through squished lips.
All that was left was the matter of settling Bungalow's bill. The repairs had been minor, and he was willing to knock the fee down further for using the Killcanoe as advertising. Zinc pulled his paper sack of imaginite out and started sorting pebbles. Junella stepped in and swept them to the side with a growl. She held up her Certificate Of Access. Bungalow gawked a bit, then started writing out an invoice to the city.
Zinc thanked Junella. She said she didn't have time to watch him count out pennies. He thought perhaps she was lying to cover up being nice.
Junella thought there was a back way they'd have to roll the Killcanoe out of. Nope. Zinc returned to the car and spat on his wrenches. Giving the jaws a few clanks to limber them up, he reached out and clamped them down on the strip of metal between the two cockpits. Then he simply lifted it straight off the display and carried it sideways towards the front entrance.
"Mind gettin' the door for me?" he asked.
Junella was too dumbstruck to move, so Bungalow swooshed in to hold it.
"Have a good day now! Come back anytime she needs new bits 'n bobs. Or just to talk! If you're not my favorite customer, I can't think of who else it might be!"
Zinc deftly maneuvered the car through the doorway, and tossed the bobcat an easy grin. "Yeah I'm pretty wonderful, ain't I? See you soon, old timer. Assuming I don't end up extra-dead on this job."
Unblinking, Junella followed, and watched the canine stroll down the sidewalk and deposit the car on the street like it weighed no more than a kitten.
"And a good afternoon to you too, madam," Bungalow said, tipping an imaginary hat.
"Same back, pops," she mumbled absently.
At the curb, Zinc hoisted himself up the Killcanoe's side and plopped into the traffic-facing cockpit. He settled in, getting his butt all snug in the comfy leather. Then he ducked his head to kiss the steering column. "Missed ya, sweetheart."
Junella came up and leaned on the chrome beside him. "What the hell is a guy who can juggle cars doin' in a dead-end dive bar, arm-wrestling drunks for crumbs?"
He gave her a perfect 'I dunno' look.
"I mean, you're strong. Seriously. And you're floppin' around in the gutter. I don't get it."
He smiled sadly. "Unnerstan, it ain't a life I woulda chosen. I just... I ain't got 'entrepreneurial spirit', or whathaveya. I mostly wait till opportunity knocks. I don't know where to go lookin' for it."
She gazed bitterly at him for a moment. Not understanding how he could put up with a life like that, settling for less, without it driving him crazy. She suddenly had an image of him heading right back to the same bar after all this was over.
She climbed into the other cockpit. "Gonna be weird ridin' around facing backwards," she muttered.
"Oh, the seat swivels," he pointed out. "It's that lever on the right side."
She made a little 'well how about that' sound as she rotated around to face him. "Allright then. Where's your man with the CIA gear?"
Zinc swiveled around too, suddenly wearing a vastly uneasy smile. "Yeah, about that..."
She glared. What new and exciting surprise did he have in store for her now?
He winced with his entire body. "I assume you've heard of the CTR?"
Junella's expression turned to pure revolted dismay. "The State Home For The Ugly!? Aw FUCK!"
~~*-*-*~~