The Fugitive: Introduction

The following serves as an introduction to a novel-in-progress that began many years ago. Due to a lack of a proper audience, I stopped writing the story and put it aside, thinking that I would never return to it. But these characters are the kind who get deep into your soul and beg to be written again at a later date, and that is what I am doing

Hubpages gives me an audience. I am not looking to make any money for this story, and you will see that all ads have been removed from this introduction and the chapters to follow. Give me an audience and I will give you a story. I hope that you will enjoy it and that you will take the time to rate it, comment, and perhaps check out some of my articles about various subjects.

His breathing was rapid, his heart racing in his chest as he bent over double, struggling to keep from being sick right there on the pavement. His muscles ached from tension and effort, and he felt weak, his head spinning. His eyes were damp, and he shook his head as though somehow he could make the tears stop, or simply go away. He trembled as he straightened, turning his head from right to left and then finally skyward, examining the stars.

Was it safe here? he wondered. He’d been running for just so long that he wasn’t sure whether or not he could ever stop. Once or twice he had known that there was someone following him in the dark of the night. He had heard the footsteps, rapid yet invisible, and his pulse had quickened. At first he had tried to simply “blend in” and travel during the day, but once the fear caught up with him he began to move at night, and always to run.

His feet were blistered, there were holes in his shoes. His inhaler had run out weeks ago and he often struggled to breath. He considered it a blessing that he had not yet collapsed, and yet somehow he wondered if death might not be favorable to a life on the run. Fear, he realized, was a strange thing.

Where he’d come from, he’d been important. Where he’d come from, he had a job, a career, a purpose in his life. He had made things happen and he had been in control. Then, one day, the rug had been yanked out from under him and he’d gone flying, his feet coming up over his head. Life had not been the same since that day a month previously.

Rubbing the back of his head, he looked around, assessing his situation. He should be in California by now. Whether or not the hunt would follow him that far, he wasn’t at all sure. His breathing finally began to slow and he steadied himself, leaning against the exterior wall of a nearby building. “Who are you?” he breathed quietly, letting his muzzle fall to his chest. “What have you become?”

“Excuse me?”

The voice came from nearby, and he knew that it was speaking to him. His head snapped around and he looked into the piercing green eyes of a pretty femme. It was the first contact he had had with another person in so long that for a long moment, he only stared.

“Am I… in California?” The words came only after a long hesitation, and the female seemed to be studying him carefully. Her whiskers twitched from time to time and he could feel the wheels turning in her head.

“They’re looking for you,” she said suddenly, then disappeared into the doorway, gesturing for him to follow her. His knees felt weak, but he followed her through the door and into the building.

It was a cozy place, a large apartment with an inviting fire in the fireplace. There were two cubs sitting at the hearth, and he found suddenly that he had been cold. The cubs looked up and then away again, and he had the impression of having been expected. “My husband isn’t here,” the female told him in a low voice. “He went out, looking for you. Please, sit down. I have your inhaler.”

He cocked an eyebrow, one ear pricking up, listening for sounds outside. The female smiled softly and reached her paw out to touch his arm. “Please. You’ll be safe here, at least for the time being. We’ve been expecting you. Sit down. I will get you something to drink.”

He didn’t understand, but then he wasn’t sure that he was expected to. Cautiously, he sat down on the couch and waited for her to return. Only a few people had known that he was going to leave, and there were only two who could have guessed where he might go, and one of them was already in hiding.

He folded his paws in his lap, then unfolded them again. It had been a while since he had been indoors, or sat on comfortable furniture. He’d  managed to hop a lift or two as he’d made his way out to California, but he didn’t consider the bed of a truck to be the same as sleeping indoors. The sofa was comfortable and the apartment was warm. There was something comforting about being in the company of others.

It was several moments before the pretty young female returned to the room. He knew she must be the mother of the cubs sitting by the fire, but they were an anomaly. He looked to them and studied them carefully, the sleek black fur, the wide green eyes and the long tails. They looked nothing like their mother, and he assumed that their father had strong genes.

“Their mother died three years ago,” the female said, sinking down onto the sofa beside him and handing him a cup of tea. I met their father last year and we were married in August. I’m not sure how well they remember their mother, and they’ve accepted me, in spite of my appearance,” she added with a smile.

The female seemed to radiate tranquility and beauty, and he liked that about her. “I’m Sophie,” she said after an awkward silence. “The cubs are Seth and Trevor.”

He turned his head. “Damien.” There wasn’t much more to say. His name was well known, with or without his surname. She didn’t need to hear it. Any person seeing a middle-aged husky-wolf was to turn him in immediately. He’d escaped close calls on several occasions already and considered himself lucky to be sitting in the home of the lovely rabbit and her obviously feline husband.

“My husband is Ramon. I expect he’ll be home in the next few minutes.”

“My sister called you?”

“Yes. Louise called us. She’s --”

“Hiding. Yeah, I know. Nobody wants to be known to be associated with me. They’ll kill her if they find her,” he stated, deadpan. It was true, and he knew it. It had become a witch hunt. Most didn’t even know why they were looking for him any more, only that they were. He was considered armed and dangerous. He could kill a male with his bare paws. Weapons not required.

Damien saw the rabbit shudder and turn her head away. There was a moment of guilt that gripped his heart, and his paws clenched into fists for a moment, the anger directed inward. 

The following silence was once again awkward.  His heart seemed to tighten, and in the silence, with no distraction, the muscles felt tense again. Exhaustion was overwhelming, and he was tempted to ask if there was somewhere for him to sleep. He had just opened his mouth when suddenly the door opened and a muscular black panther burst into the apartment.

“Daddy!” squealed both cubs as they jumped up to meet him and wrap their arms tightly around his legs, begging for his attention. The feline pulled them both up and kissed them, then focused his gaze on Damien.

“Where the hell have you been, Mr. Ashley?”