Alex Reynard
The Library
Alex Reynard's Online Books
--Chapter Six--
His attack had backfired completely. Cody had tried to undermine Vera's control over his classmates and turn the tide against her. He'd tried to show them something so horrible that they couldn't help but realize what their enemy was capable of. He'd hoped to eradicate their trust in this woman who spoke such pretty lies. But she'd caught his weapon and thrown it back at him. Somehow, by admitting to murder, she had made them trust her even more.
Cody felt shattered inside. This woman was the most skillful enemy he had ever fought.
Vera took a cleansing breath. "Well, enough about me," she said weakly, trying to improve the mood. "There were a lot of other topics I'd hoped to get into today, but I think Cody's question was just as worthwhile."
Frank held up her hand. From her expression, she was deeply conflicted inside. "Were you planning on telling us about First Prey eventually?" she asked.
Vera nodded. "Yes. Though not so soon."
'Liar,' Cody thought.
The grey fox skimmed over her notes again. "We don't have much time left. I'd wanted to get into some discussion about how some Pred and Prey stereotypes have a little truth to them and how that affects our governments." She reconsidered. "...Actually, I think I can condense that."
She took a moment to go over her ideas, trimming out all but the necessities. "I want to talk about dominant and submissive personalities more later on, but for now I'll just say that a lot of studies have found that the stereotypes of Preds being more independent and Preys being more collectivist have some basis." Before anyone could object, she held up her hands. "Not everyone's like this, obviously. There's plenty of independent-minded Preys and Preds who prefer to go along with the crowd. But on average, for most of us it's the other way around. This leads to the two biggest stereotypes about our governments: the Preds talk and talk about problems without ever getting anything done, because no one wants to admit that anyone else is right. Meanwhile the Preys all stand around waiting for someone to tell them what to do. Or hoping that if they do nothing for long enough, their problems will all solve themselves."
A few kids got a bit pissed off at that, but none of them could deny that they'd heard their own parents saying those exact same things when complaining about both sides' governments.
"There's a biological aspect to these stereotypes, but culture plays a big part too. Obviously, to some degree our personalities are shaped by our species and instincts. But culture can reinforce behavior. 'Acting this way is what Preds do; acting that way is what Prey do'. I doubt any of you have never been told by your parents or teachers to 'act more like your genus'."
Everyone groaned a little. It was as common an adult cliche as 'brush your teeth' or 'eat your vegetables'.
Vera started pacing a little as she worked towards her last big point. "We need to really look at the biology side though, because there's something that doesn't add up. I'm going to take another gamble and bet that all of you have noticed this. All of you. But it's not polite to talk about.
"The line between Predator and Prey doesn't make any sense."
If she had said that at the beginning of class, there would have been angry dismissals. But by now there was merely an irritable silence.
"Sometimes it does. Sometimes it's clear," Vera admitted. "Canines and felines on one side; rodents and ungulates on the other. Makes sense. But then what about all those problem species in the middle, hm?"
The Preykids were getting more and more uncomfortable. This was the sort of topic that, if you dared to talk about it at school, you got your ass beat when the teachers weren't looking.
Vera walked back over to the blackboard and tapped the screen again. Various illustrations of nonev animals popped up. "Are bats Predator or Prey?" she asked.
"Pred," said many students.
She tapped the bat on the blackboard. "In nature, most nonev bats eat fruit or insects. Even among the larger species, it is rare to find any who will eat anything larger than a bird, mouse or amphibian. Even vampire bats, one of the most feared kinds of Predators, are, in the nonev world, tiny creatures the size of your thumb. They are so gentle when feeding, their 'victims' usually have no idea they've even been preyed upon." She brought up a picture of a zookeeper holding a nonev vampire cupped in one hand. A lot of the kids thought it was kind of cute.
"What about rats?" Vera asked.
"Pred," said almost everyone.
"Why?" she replied. "Mice are Prey. Along with rabbits, they're practically the first image that comes to mind when you hear the word. Rats and mice in the wild have similar eating habits, similar behavior, similar habitats... Their biggest difference is their size. Yet in our society we force them to live on different sides of the Fence. And those who have a mixed heritage, like your friend Jayden..." The quarter-rat mouse didn't mind being an example. "...have to deal with prejudice so unfounded it would make a scientist cry."
Jayden liked that. "Yeah! My grandpa porked a rat and I ain't ashamed of that. He's got some old pictures of her: she was hot!" he admitted.
"Possibly too much information there, Mr. Winters, but your self esteem is refreshing," Vera chuckled. "Monkeys and apes are another example. Virtually all of them have mostly-vegetarian diets in the wild. But they're lumped in with Preds because of their similarity to humans. And we still can't quite get over our grudge against them, now can we?" She smiled knowingly at the discomfort that question caused. Humans were the last boogeyman that everyone could agree on, despite the fact that they were so near to extinction they were a threat to no one.
"What about raccoons? Preds too?" Vera asked.
The class nodded.
"In the wild, their diet is practically identical to opossums, who are Prey. So maybe a bit of unconscious prejudice towards that bandit mask?" A few chuckles. "Skunks are Prey too, including Mr. Tempe." Carlos gave a little bow to his classmates. "Yet they are also omnivorous. Nonev skunks eat fruits, roots, small prey... Hmm, just like grey foxes." She gave the class her toothiest smile. "Are we seeing a pattern yet? Or lack of one?"
Yolanda raised her hand. "It's all about prejudice."
"Prejudice and aesthetics," Vera concurred. "It's all based on perceptions of species, rather than reality. The very idea that you can corral every species in the world into one of two classifications is ludicrous. It's stupid on a level only politicians are capable of. ...No offense to your parents," she teased. The kids, for the most part, took it in good humor. "Bats and rats and raccoons, by any objective standards, should be living Preyside with you. The fact that they're not is due entirely to the fact that the line between Pred and Prey was drawn by politicians, not zoologists. And it never should have been drawn at all."
Tycho couldn't resist putting up his hand. "Um, I had a theory about skunks. I remember learning they were omnivores when I did a project in fourth grade. I asked myself the same questions you just did. I think they're similar to porcupines though; if your body evolved to become a defensive weapon, that kinda doesn't suggest Pred."
Vera nodded approvingly. "Very insightful, Mr. Max."
The gerbil smiled.
"The last thing I want to leave you with before I let you go..." Vera looked at the clock and flushed. "Oh dear, I've kept you too long as is. But anyway, I want you all to think about this very hard. Consider it homework. You all remember the genesis of furkind, right? It's been in all your history books, it's been on TV countless times, there's several movies about it. So you all know that we all originally came from the same source.
"At the very beginning, when the first of us were made, we were all made together. No Preds or Preys. Just individuals."
Vera took a moment to look across the classroom, at every one of her students.
"We chose to separate ourselves. And now you have to live with the consequences of your great-great-grandparents' choice. But they could have chosen differently. And it's not too late for us to change back."
Vera pointed to her midsection. "You've seen the motto that most of us have engraved on our belt buckles? The one we had Mr. Swansea say on Broadcast day? Then over and over again whenever he appeared?"
"'Only We Can Win The War'," Yolanda remembered.
Vera nodded. "It's meant to sound arrogant at first. Like a declaration of superiority. But it's not."
She smiled with deep affection at her classroom of Preykids. "It's an acknowledgement that war is always a losing game for both sides. It is the worst thing we are capable of. It shames us and lessens us. Both sides suffer losses, and inflict them, and in the end maybe one of them is less battered than the other and claims victory.
"But we know better. The only way to win a war is if both sides agree to stop fighting it. Victory can only ever be shared. Only we can win the war. Only WE can win the war. We. Us. All of us." She held out her arms to them. "Me and you and everyone, or not at all."
She sighed. "And that's about it for today."
Slowly, applause filled the room. Yolanda started clapping first, fiercely ignoring what anyone else thought of her for doing so. Tycho and Michelle followed. Not willing to let one of her subordinates hog the spotlight, Hydra followed. And as Hydra Kensington went, so the class followed.
Vera was staggered. It was only the second day of camp. Only the second day, and she'd reached them enough for them to applaud her words. She was flabbergasted. She was joyfully stunned. She had to actually sit down to take it all in. Her students' hands fluttered like butterflies. Everyone but Cody, which was no surprise. Though even his friend Kenny was shyly joining in.
The vixen's smile radiated bliss, satisfaction and triumph. "Class dismissed, everyone. Have an absolutely wonderful day, and I'll see you all tomorrow."
*****
After class, Cody was unsurprised to see Yolanda skitter up to Miss Vera's desk and begin talking with her animatedly. 'She'll be wearing an armband the next time I see her,' he thought bitterly. And that was a bad, bad sign. If their class had a leader, Yola Denton, by virtue of her father's status and her own levelheadedness, was it.
Two of the smartest kids in class had let themselves be brainwashed. The last bastion of hope was Hydra Kensington; the leader in popularity. If she turned, so would everyone else. Even if Kenny and Frank held out, they'd end up in the minority.
Cody was deeply discouraged. He needed to get outside and give his mind something to do other than dwell on how badly things were going. Almost everything he'd tried so far had failed. Yet he couldn't let himself sink into depression over this. His father had taught him that when you got yourself stuck in a rut, you ended up staying there. Focusing on your problems kept you trapped by them. Whenever Cody was having a particularly crummy day, Dad would take him out for a run around the neighborhood. It worked wonders.
Thinking of Dad reminded Cody of something Vera had said. One of the camp's activities was archery. That sounded extremely appealing at the moment. Something he could focus all his attention on. Something he was good at. He headed towards the bunkhouse to check the bulletin board for directions.
The archery range was uncomfortably close to the Pred side of camp, but Cody figured having a weapon in his hands would make him feel a whole lot better about that.
The range was in a nice sunny spot. Pockmarked wooden targets were lined up at one end, kids lined up at the other. The instructors were a Pred and a Prey; a rather handsome elk who had eyes like Cody's dad, and that gargantuan dog lady who'd swallowed Scott. 'How the hell can arms that bulgy handle a bow!?' he thought.
There were a couple of Predkids in the lineup; a cat and some sort of sandy-furred canine (Cody didn't know every species out there). It was the first time Cody had seen the other side's uniforms. Same shirt and shorts, but colored a bright electric blue. Cody wondered if it was random chance, or a surprisingly shrewd move, to give the Preykids the aggressive color and the Preds the calm, soothing one.
One of the kids who'd showed up was Mason Kellway. When the buck spotted Cody and envisioned the chipmunk wielding a deadly weapon, he decided that maybe he didn't want to stick around any more. Seeing him run off got a solid laugh out of Cody and made him feel a little better.
The elk guy gave out some instructions while Gilda mostly stood behind him looking intimidating. He introduced himself as Rick and talked about basic safety and strategy. "...Also, I assume most of you have been shown the Rejuvenators by now. If anyone gets clumsy, or suddenly feels trigger-happy, we can get just about anything fixed up quick. So don't get any ideas. So much as pointing your weapon at another camper, or at us, will result in me kicking your ass. Figuratively speaking."
Cody liked this guy.
Trying his best to ignore the Predkids on the other end of the range, Cody chose a decent-looking compound bow and filled his quiver. He gave himself a moment to forget the day and relax. He looked ahead to his target. He remembered running for that hole in the wiredome the other night. If it hadn't been for the paralyzing ray, he'd have made it. Cody was proud of his aim.
The elk walked by and could see at a glance that Cody was no novice. Even before he'd taken his first shot, the boy was standing and holding his bow correctly. He gave the young chipmunk a small hint about where to position his shoulders.
Cody nodded appreciatively. He liked that this guy wasn't babying him.
Cody's first shot nearly missed. It thwacked into the very edge of the target and drooped downwards.
Rick gave the chipmunk a short encouragement. Cody thanked him and lined up his next shot.
"Much better."
Cody had hit the second ring this time. Not bad considering he was rusty at this and the bow was unfamiliar. He re-planted his feet and took aim again.
Time passed. Cody was like a machine. He let his mind drift away completely. All that mattered was the target, his arrow and the tension in his bow. He made quite a few bullseyes. Not as many as he felt he should have gotten, but he wasn't unhappy overall.
Eventually all the other kids got bored and left, leaving Cody standing alone. He was oblivious.
One more shot. He could do better. One more.
Rick eventually patted him on the shoulder. "I hate to tell you this, but my shift here's up. I've gotta go help out at the cafeteria before it opens."
"Oh," Cody said.
"I'll be back tomorrow. Would you like to help me gather up the equipment?"
"Yeah, okay."
Cody helped him in silence. The elk kept his ears open, sensing the boy had a lot he needed to talk about. But he didn't push. He simply waited to see if this talented young archer would open up.
Cody wanted to. As he picked up stray arrows from the grass, he thought about how much of a relief it would be to have someone like his father that he could sit down with and let out all his frustrations. Tell them about all the hell he'd been going through here. All his fears and plans and terrors.
But he couldn't trust Rick. As much as he wanted to. As much as he seemed like a really nice guy who, in any other circumstance, Cody would have become fast friends with.
The reason was wrapped around Rick's arm and bore a Great Predator Army logo.
He might be Prey, and he might be a nice guy, but he still bore the brand of the enemy. So Cody could not allow himself to show the man anything more than politeness.
He helped Rick stack all the bows together in the nearby equipment shed, then left without a word.
*****
On the way back to the bunkhouse, Kenny appeared from around a corner. "Hey, Cody!" he called out as he ran closer.
The chipmunk managed a smile. At least he had one friend in this place. "What's up?"
"Did you know this place has a rock climbing wall? I've always wanted to try that. You up to joining us?"
That actually did sound really fun. "Who's us?"
Kenny pointed behind him at a group of kids walking along the path together. "Frank asked Trent if he wanted to go, then they both asked if anyone else wanted to come along."
Rock-climbing and time with Frank? Today was getting better.
Cody was just about to say yes when he looked back at the little group and saw who else was with them.
That bobcat kid. Walter. The one who thought he belonged in a Prey uniform.
Kenny could practically see Cody's enthusiasm shut down. He looked to where his friend was glaring and guessed why. "You don't have to say anything to him. Just ignore him. Frank said she thinks he's an okay guy."
Cody deliberated with himself for a moment, but the choice was clear. "No. You go on."
"Seriously? Just because Walter's gonna be there too?"
The chipmunk shot his friend an ugly scowl. "You say that like it's nothing! Yeah, I'd like to go. But if I did, all I'd be thinking about is him. I'd be smelling him. Seeing him dressed like us, as if that's okay. Did you forget what this place is and why we're here? You think we're here to fuck around and have fun!?"
Kenny backed off. "Damn, Cody! Calm down. I know. But maybe I just want to relax for a while. Is that okay?"
Anger rose inside Cody's chest. It had been almost twenty-four full hours since he'd been kidnapped. Twenty-four hours of fear, frustration and disgust. And apparently, twenty-four hours was all it took for his friend to lose his mind. "Fine! Go relax! Go play in the sandbox with your Pred friend like we're all on a fucking field trip!!" He shoved past Kenny and made a beeline for the bunkhouse.
Kenny turned and called out to him. "I'm sorry! It's just..." He stopped trying, realizing it was pointless. "You know what? Fuck it. I'll see you at dinner."
Cody didn't reply. He didn't look back.
*****
The young chipmunk spent the remaining hour until dinnertime lying on his stomach in bed. His book took him away from thoughts of friends and Preds.
Though not very well.
He couldn't concentrate. Even though the book's action was ramping up and nearing its climax, Cody kept snapping out of the story, looking around at every new noise. The bunkhouse wasn't quite empty; there were a few Preys here and there who were either too lazy, tired or frightened to spend their time outside. Whenever any of them made a sound; rolled over, sat up, coughed, etcetera, Cody noticed. His focus was completely shot.
It wasn't the book's fault. It was his goddamn brain.
It kept kicking him for being a jerk to Kenny. His one friend, and Cody had used him to vent his frustrations at. Like a punching bag. It wasn't Kenny's fault he was trying to make the best of the situation and have a little fun. Wasn't that exactly what Cody had been doing at the archery range? And hadn't there been Predkids there too?
But somehow, seeing Walter had just clicked something on inside Cody. The bobcat somehow represented everything that was wrong with this place. Everything that was upside down and backwards. He was a Pred pretending to be Prey... and being accepted for it! That was really the focus of Cody's revulsion. Walter might have been an okay guy. He'd even proven he had some honor by upholding his half of the bargain for them to leave each other alone. But the mere fact of his presence tore at Cody's nerves. Even if Frank thought he was an 'okay guy'.
Frank... Cody still didn't know if he had an actual crush on the zebragirl or if he just wanted her for a friend. But this would have been a great opportunity to spend some time with her. They could have had a fun hour, seeing how high they could climb, hearts pounding as they tried not to fall. It could have been great.
They were out at the rock wall right now, Frank and Kenny and the others. They were having fun. And he'd blown them off to go lie on his bed and sulk.
It felt like a nail in his heart.
But... even though part of him regretted it, he knew the stink of that Pred would have tainted every moment. He wouldn't have been able to concentrate on Frank, or the wall, or on having fun. He would have been constantly looking over his shoulder at Walter. Not necessarily out of fear. Just constantly aware of the wrongness of the situation. Like something stuck in his eye. Like a tickle in his throat.
He partly regretted saying no to Kenny. And he definitely regretted being so rude. But he also partly knew that, even if he'd gone along, he wouldn't have been able to enjoy himself.
For a moment, he wondered what it would be like if he simply let go and stopped fighting this place.
He winced. Hard. That was what they wanted. They wanted him to have those thoughts. It was a honey trap, he reminded himself. The sides were greased with sticky, sweet honey that smelled so good. It'd be so easy to just lean in and take a little taste. And the next thing he knew, he'd be sliding down inside with no way to pull himself out. Sliding down inside where the knives were.
He suddenly remembered the old observation tower.
That got him to smile again. After dinner, he knew exactly what he'd be doing.
And it gave him something else to look forward to. He'd been watching his fellow Preys and, though some had sold themselves to the other side, he at least saw their reasons. They didn't all abruptly switch without cause. That's what he would have expected if the food were drugged. Conclusion: it wasn't. Which meant he could finally let himself have whatever he was hungry for tonight. Maybe they'd have pizza again.
He felt better. He smiled and returned to his book, his purpose rekindled. It was easier to focus now.
*****
The sun was down and that was perfect. Cody had scanned the treeline from the middle of camp until he'd seen that tiny flash of pale wood. He'd been worried he might not be able to find the observation tower again. Now he was standing at the base of it, looking up, and realizing why none of the Preds had mentioned it before.
It was barely inside the wiredome. Hell, the roof was probably scraping the metal. The tower rose up forty or fifty feet from the ground on a square concrete base. The wood was old, flaky, pitted and dry. At the foot of the tower was a massive pile of planks and debris from where a nearby evergreen had apparently blown against it in a storm and took out three-fourths of the ladders inside.
Getting up there would not be simple, it seemed.
Cody wasn't deterred though. He grabbed one of the supports and shoved it as hard as he could. Paint flakes and pine needles showered down, but the tower didn't wobble or creak much. It was stable. That meant it was climbable.
Cody checked his pants pockets. He'd filled them to the limits, since he planned to spend the rest of the night out here (assuming the tower's lookout point wasn't uninhabitable). He had finished his book before dinnertime and tucked it carefully under his mattress. He was certain now that he wanted to steal it when he escaped. He'd grabbed four more interesting-looking paperbacks and crammed them in his back pockets. The sides were filled with water bottles and granola bars, including the now-squashed one he'd never gotten around to eating last night.
Cody looked up to the top of the tower. He walked slowly around the base, gauging which side had the best handholds. They all looked about equal, actually. So he picked the side lit with the most moonlight and hopped up onto the first crosstie. Cody was not usually fond of being a chipmunk. His species was considered 'cute' and not much else. Even the word was cute. But one thing he appreciated about his species was his short, strong, tree-climbing claws.
The ascent was slow. Cody was careful. He had plenty of time to get up here, and rushing would send him plummeting backwards to crack open his skull on the concrete base below. He suddenly pictured his head split open like a watermelon. 'Not helpful, brain.'
The wood groaned and creaked occasionally. Sometimes he'd come across a loose board. But for the most part, the tower was in better shape than it looked. As Cody climbed higher and higher, he'd periodically look out over the camp. He was higher than the bunkhouses. And now the medical building. Then he was higher than some of the trees.
Finally he came to the top. But there was a problem. He'd climbed up the outside, and the observation platform jutted out over the edge. He'd have to reach way out and pull himself straight up the side wall. 'Not very safe,' he thought. 'Wait; simple solution.' He climbed back down a few planks and squeezed himself through a hole into the interior. There he could simply grab hold of the remaining chunk of ladder and pull himself right up.
There was a hatch at the top. Cody really, really hoped it wasn't rusted shut. Or nailed in place. Or had a hawk's nest sitting on top of it and as soon as he opened it he'd have a mother bird sinking her talons into his eyeballs. The hatch didn't give way easily. But Cody looped one arm through the rungs for stability, then jammed his elbow up into it with all the strength his awkward position allowed. He felt the hatch pop.
More pine needles fell into his face and hair. He shook them away, grimacing when one got in his mouth.
When Cody pulled himself up onto the observation platform, he was surprised by how little housecleaning he needed to do. He kicked a bunch of needles and pinecones down the hatch. Brushed some cobwebs away. The roof was still in one piece and there wasn't any huge debris up here. Not even much birdshit.
For the first time in this nightmare place, Cody felt safe. Cozy even.
He had his own little space now. A place he'd found and claimed as his own. A little square house up in the trees. The view was fantastic. He could see the entire camp. Every building. And a nice clear line of sight to that gate. He thought it might be a good idea to come up here periodically to check if it ever opened. They couldn't rely on helicopters for everything, right?
Speaking of the copter, he didn't see it parked anywhere. The Preds had probably stolen it from a Prey base and then quickly returned it. Or maybe they had spies intertwined with the military and could take what they wanted whenever they felt like it? That was a chilling thought. He hoped his Dad's men were all trustworthy.
Cody knelt on the warped wooden boards and rested his head on his arms. He looked off into the distance, past the trees. Now that he thought about it, he really wasn't too worried about whatever his dad was doing out there. Everyone knew he was a great leader. Parker St. John was a man who believed that respect ought to be earned, and he did his best to make sure his men respected him. He wasn't one of those generals who cussed his men out all the time and smoked them for petty slip-ups. If someone fucked up, he reassigned them until he found whatever they were good at. 'Every man has his place,' he'd told Cody once. To him, every unit was a jigsaw puzzle. If he took the time to assemble the pieces correctly, everything would fit exactly right.
Whoever he was fighting against right now, Cody pitied them. Dad would annihilate them. Dad would do exactly what needed to be done to end whatever conflict he'd been assigned to. With his idea that respect was an earned thing, Dad sometimes made enemies with the higher-ups. He was not afraid to tell someone to their face when something they'd said was wrong. Not even if that man had five stars on his shoulder. Not even if that man was the Commander In Chief.
That had actually happened once. A few years ago, President Bradley had been on a diplomatic mission and Dad's unit had been assigned to help the local soldiers quell some rioting that had been going on. Dad had spent a few days studying the situation and was starting to get things under control. One day, Bradley had stopped by to see how things were going. He'd casually asked Dad if he was keeping the rebels in line. Dad had calmly and succinctly explained that the 'rebels' were mostly ordinary citizens driven to extremes by a government that couldn't care less about their suffering. This was not exactly a diplomatically sensitive thing to say. Some of the President's handlers had tried to shuffle him away from this smartassed general, but he had paused long enough to shake Dad's hand and give him an 'I know, but I can't be caught saying it' smile.
When Dad had called home and told him this, Cody had beamed with pride for days. At school, he had bragged up and down that his father had corrected the President and gotten away with it.
Cody smiled. His Dad was the best furson he knew. He was glad to be so far removed from the other kids now, because it meant that if he got a little wet-eyed from reminiscing, he didn't have to worry about anyone seeing.
He watched the tiny people below walking around the camp. They looked like toys. Tiny orange Preykids and tiny blue Preds. The Preds' bunkhouses were identical in design to the Preys. Their cafeteria looked the same too. Instead of a pool, they had an athletic field nearby. From this height, Cody realized that the entire camp was laid out like a yin/yang symbol.
He burped. It tasted nice. There had indeed been pizza available in the cafeteria. Not deep-dish this time, but covered in crunchy green peppers and scorchingly spicy sausage. Perfection. For child-abducting bastards, these Preds sure could cook.
Kenny had let him sit next to him like nothing had happened. Cody mumbled an apology, and his rabbitfriend waved it away; it wasn't worth getting mad over. While Cody ate, Kenny told him all about the rock wall. He'd barely noticed Walter while he'd been there, he said. Mostly he'd been trying to outdo Frank. Even with her hooves, she had grappled her way to the top like she was daring gravity to fuck with her. Cody chuckled. He would've liked to have seen that. Kenny said there was no reason they couldn't all go again sometime tomorrow. Cody hoped so.
He burped and tasted sausage again. He was glad Scott or Mason hadn't been anywhere nearby. They would've loved to have pranced around, calling him a hypocrite for eating meat. He'd heard that before from Pred-sympathizers who wanted to believe that the two sides weren't really all that different. What a pile of horseshit. There was a world of difference between a furson and a nonev. Brains. Emotions. Self-awareness. Nonevs were bred to be eaten; it was their purpose. They didn't think about their families, spouses or children in the moment before they got a bolt gun right between the eyes.
He'd spotted Tycho in the regular food line. He kinda liked that. The gerbil wore their armband, but didn't change his bunk and didn't associate with with the Predlovers. His allegiance was to scientific progress. Cody could respect that.
Yolanda on the other hand... It killed him to see the brand new GPA logo on her arm. She was so smart. And, truth be told, kinda hot. Cody didn't have a 'thing' for her, but he liked her. Up until seeing her wearing that goddamn armband. Yes, that fox woman had said a lot of really impressive stuff in class. But if Yolanda believed any of it, it proved she wasn't thinking with her head. All of that stuff; all those statistics and questions and all her tearful backstory, could have been fake. But Yolanda believed it because Miss Vera had done such a good job of crying at just the right times. If Yolanda had waited and done research and confirmed it herself, Cody could have at least begrudgingly respected her choice, like with Tycho. But under all her smarts, she'd proven herself to be just another hippie who thought with her emotions first, reason last.
He wondered, by tomorrow, how many of the others would have switched sides too.
He tried to comfort himself by insisting that it really didn't matter. If he could just get out and tell someone what the Preds were doing here, the military would rush in and rescue everyone. They could send them to cult deprogrammers or something.
He briefly wondered what'd happen to all the Predkids then. He wasn't so cold-blooded that he wanted to see them all get rounded up and shot. If they'd been kidnapped from their homes and families, then they were victims too. He hoped the soldiers would just take them to the border and let them go.
Assuming they really were victims. If that was a lie and they were actually volunteers, if this was a Great Predator Army training camp and the graduation ceremony was to swarm the Prey bunkhouses and chow down, then fuck 'em all.
Cody allowed himself a brief moment of sheer wish-fulfillment as he imagined his Dad leading the charge against this place. A bigass tank would pound though the gate, crushing it to splinters. It'd roll right through the buildings. Soldiers would be everywhere; reassuring Preykids, locking the Predkids in their bunkhouses until everything was over, recovering the plans for the Rejuvenator. Then Dad would hand him a rifle and together they'd hunt down every last GPA member in the whole stinking camp. Line 'em up against a wall, put cuffs on their wrists and bags over their heads. Put THEM in a helicopter en route to an unknown location. See how they liked it. Cody grinned as he imagined himself hauling back and punching that fox woman in the nose until it bled all down her shirt like a-
Whoa.
Shit, did that really just come out of him?
Cody blinked hard. For a moment there, he'd felt savage glee at the thought of brutalizing that woman while she was helpless.
Yes, he understood why. She had kidnapped him and poured propaganda down his friends' throats and made them betray their kind. But there was a right way and a wrong way to do things, even in war. When you won, you didn't act like an asshole and abuse your prisoners just because you could. That's what the Preds did. Cody reminded himself that he just wanted to be home with his Dad and for the war to be over and for the Preds to just stay on their own damn side of the Fence where they belonged.
He took a moment to calm himself. He realized how fast his heart had been beating. He looked up at the moon and let his mind disengage from his anger.
He looked around the platform. He got down on all fours and swept some dirt and pine needles away from one corner. He made a tidy place to sit, and did so. He curled his tail around himself since it was starting to get a bit chilly.
He reminded himself to keep an ear open for sounds of trucks or anyone opening the gate, or anything unusual at all. Then he got out his paperbacks and tried to decide which one to start on next.
*****