To Light It Up

By Clarke Macbeth

In the not-too-distant future, humans are living among other dominant species. A variety that take the shape of animals that can walk on two feet and communicate as equals now roam the Earth, struggling to coexist among their own creation.

A scapegoat. One which will divide the public for decades to come.

Though some progress had been made after Minnesota elected its first biomorphic governor, an explosion at the historic O'Hare airport casts an air of doubt fills the streets of Saint Paul. Demons of the past will rise, all that had been built is now on the brink of being lost.

After what was supposed to be a one-night stand, Dartsy Jane and Jeremy Sly Foxx try to form a relationship.

Their efforts get thwarted swiftly as they become ensnared in turmoil they were hoping to cast aside.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Dec 2, 2016
• ISBN: 9781365578199

Book preview

To Light It Up

To Light It Up

By Clarke Macbeth

For Joshua

ISBN 978-1-365-65574-6

ISBN (Digital) 978-1-365-57819-9

Special Thanks to Willowmore Fox and Yavvol Foxxen.

Fifth Edition.

© 2016 Clarke Macbeth

For Personal Use Only.

All Rights Reserved.

Chapter 1

Only weeks from Christmas as the snow continues to fall, glistening under the street lamps, covering the city in the Northern plains like cream cheese icing on top of a smooth cupcake. The snowflakes get darker as they hit the ground as ominous shadows hitting the sidewalk, warning all pedestrians in the dead of night to steer clear and use the far-reaching system of skyways that connect every large building to another, a web that carries the dreamers with the doers, the cautious with the brave.

The network began more than a century ago and has kept growing until it could go no further, over the edge and into St. Paul. The heated tunnels continue into the capital, and not far from the Assembly there is a high-rise building with a dark-grey plastic plate exterior, accented with cream on the top and on the sides bordering a large, alternating grid of windows. On the front door, next to the sidewalk are large letters that appear in a backlit serif font: Brooks Park.

A twenty-story tower packs residents snugly in compact suites of 60 square meters. Now the common area is closed, the lights are dim and the only staff behind the front desk is a security guard. After going up the elevator and into the hallway, residents will open their door and enter a layout that starts with the entertainment area, which leads further into the middle with a small kitchen that combines counter and table space with four bar stools bolted into the ground. This carves out space for a bathroom with a large walk-in shower/jacuzzi and two spacious bedrooms.

In one of these, a fox rests on a double blow-up mattress that tops a do-it-yourself boxspring and headboard, half undone. Facing the door of the bathroom, he opens his eyes and can't help but think off all the years he has spent focused on work, collecting basic income, hoarding cash, and not doing much of anything else, watching the time pass on a projected screen in front of a mirror. 1:08.

Maybe I could invite an old friend, he thought. The leopard guy. Maybe I could get in touch with him. Maybe we could go out on the town, bowl, drink, maybe watch a movie. Or I could just cook for him. That would be great. He shut his eyes and the thought caused him to feel him feel a warm embrace. He went back to sleep, wanting to take this feeling into a dream, someplace far away from this numbing reality, hoping that he would never have to return. He knew it was futile, but at least it put his mind at ease.

At 4:33, Jeremy awoke to the exact same feeling that he had before he went to sleep. It was big and warm, bigger than he was. It felt like a woman snuggling his naked body.

It was a woman snuggling his naked body, and one with fur.

Jeremy took a moment to glance at the door and his surroundings before going back to the clock. 4:35 Having fun, are we? God hates you, Renard, was all Jeremy could think of as she ruffled back and forth. Oh shit, she's about to wake up. Renard displayed a chart to confirm this, then quickly flashed it out of sight, making him wonder if it was ever there. As she was waking, the woman swayed her body back and forth, adjusting her embrace, moving her paws up to touch his nipple and squeezed it with two fingers as she breathed down his neck with her cold nose. She opened her muzzle and eagerly tasted the soft, pink fur.

Not knowing what else to do, Jeremy screamed under his breath, then burst open the lady's arms, wiggling in a spastic manner before leaping out of the bed.

Whoa—hey—what the fuck?

He looked back at the bed in terror and saw a gray-and-black vixen with menacing yellow eyes and blonde hair. Even after a night of snuggling, she was taller than he imagined, and her muscular build only added to his humiliation. To Jeremy, a stranger was staring back at him, and all he could do was stare back, kneel, fall to the floor, place his arms over his head, and hope it went away.

The vixen got out of bed and knelt. What's wrong, Jeremy? She reached her arm out to calm the fox down before having it slapped away. Hey!

Sorry, Jeremy replied, almost impulsively. He looked up at the figure towering above him. I—I don't know who you are. How you got in here. What you want...

What?

How do you know my name?

Oh God, the vixen sighed as she pawed her face. Are you serious? She sighed again in disappointment at pile of the pink and blue fur on the floor and rolled her eyes. I really hope you're not like that with everyone, she thought.

All I remember was going to the Camp Bar and doing research on the economy, ya know? Just like any other Wednesday night. I'm always there. Sometimes I like talking to people.

I'll be right back, the vixen interrupted. I have to make a phone call. I'm sorry.

That's okay, Jeremy said impulsively.

She walked into the living area and remembered that there was a physical handset next to the TV, one that she trusted more than her multifunctional bracelet to work. It was attached to a cord and plugged into the wall. Perfect.

She picked it up and dialed the only number that could possibly unravel the bizarre way her boyfriend was acting:

Good morning, Mayo Clinic's confidential MedLine, this is John speaking. How can I be of assistance today?

Hi John, this is Dartsy—again.

Oh, uh, hi.

The nature of Dartsy's work makes her call this number frequently, often recording it under the condition that she not mention the person she is speaking on behalf of by name. Unfortunately, the sly vixen would not be able to use such a common feature. She grit her teeth at her own stupidity, choosing convenience over utility, but it's not like she had much of a choice. By the time she made a connection everyone would be asking her what she was doing. Curses!

Hi John. I have a medical question.

Of course ya do, replied John, rolling his eyes at his desk because he could. What do ya need?

Stupid question, but, can adults have repressed memories? I… Dartsy paused.

John began drumming his pen and fingers on the desk, unamused. This is a confidential line, he reminded her.

I know, I know, it's just that, she paused, we had sex last night and he doesn't even remember. Very good sex. Good for both of us.

Traumatic amnesia, John asked.

Dartsy paused, assuming it was rhetorical. Yes.

Retrograde amnesia, the kind you describe, is rare. It is real but rare at any age. Sometimes people do come in here and 'fake it,' but have our own little area for that. Could you describe the individual that you slept with?

Uh….

Do you think anything else happened that happened last night could have triggered it? Certain personality traits make it more likely—and I just got the medical records.

Shit, replied Dartsy, hitting her face in embarrassment.

I—I shouldn't have gotten that. I'm sorry. Her name and description is scratched off, though, so that's good. I still don't know your number or where you work—no don't hang up!

Dartsy rolled her eyes, wishing that he could see it, and sighed into the receiver. I'm so getting back at him, she thought. I'm listening.

People susceptible to what your partner is going through have a low sense of self-reflection, people that don't take that much time to think about how they look in front of others,

Well I'm in St. Paul right now so that narrows it down!

Try as he might, John couldn't hold in a very loud chuckle. Yeah, he asserted, Oh yeah, for sure. It also, uh, people, uh, he tried to muster the words as he fumbled through the information projected to him. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, trying to calm his nerves. Whoever you slept with may have also had enough of a sensory overload to trigger the amnesia. People who are paranoid or schizophrenic have amnesia feeding into their, uh, symptoms.

She is also a man, Dartsy corrected. Also, after we were done in the restroom, I broke up with mistress last night. He was there; he saw it. The police were called in to stop us from fighting and she was arrested.

Oh, John replied. The grayness of their relationship was becoming all too apparent, soiled after years of using this service for evidence to help her cases. They paused and wondered why they didn't just call each other and have a more personal conversation. Well, I can't show you or discuss any of the medical information I just got on my desk, he shouted back, hoping whoever sent it would hear him, but I can say that, depending on the severity, your boyfriend,

He's not my boyfriend, Dartsy assured him, loud enough for Jeremy to hear. He crawled back into bed, hoping that all the bad would go away.

Whoever he is, there's only a slight chance now, but there's also a chance he may forget some what happened after he woke up. The brain doesn't work like a camera. If he does start remembering, we have no idea how faulty those memories will be.

I hear ya, said Dartsy. I have to deal with that sort of thing all the time.

I'm sure you do, John replied, sounding almost too cheerful. Is there anything else I can help you with today?

No, that will be it, Dartsy assured.

Okay then, well, have a nice day.

Dartsy hung up and sighed. What am I going to do? I have no idea, she thought to herself. I just, I just don't. She threw the handset back and across the hallway toward the kitchen.

Ow, she heard a voice scream in the corner. The large, gray vixen looked back and saw a pair of fennecs in their underwear playing video games. They were almost tall as Jeremy and had purple markings across their torso, with identical accents on the tips of their ears. It was gross but she couldn't stop staring at the neon fabric, one green, the other orange, going back and forth wondering which one was bigger. The spandex on the orange undies read South, and the green Africa. One of them looked back at her. Hello, she said, smiling and waving. He didn't even look back, choosing instead to place a hand on his boyfriend's underwear, scritching it gently, as she watched it become erect. They clearly didn't want her company, nor did they care.

Dartsy stared at Jeremy in his bedroom, wondering if she should go talk to him. She looked back at the fennecs. They paused the game on the TV. The fennec in orange underwear embraced the one in green, closing their eyes and leaning gently into a smooch, and after that, they looked at each other, closed their eyes again and kissed each other passionately, but not before the fennec in orange underwear winked at the vixen as she peeped, their foxy parts becoming stiff and making bulges bigger than—Jeremy.

Dartsy walked into the bedroom that they slept in, the pink fox still holding a pillow above his head. I can just leave, she thought. I can just go and hope that he forgets. It doesn't even look like he wants to remember. It's not like he can do anything. She turned her back and headed toward the door leading to the hallway with a heavy heart, turning the knob and opening it.

Dartsy started to walk away, heading down toward a draft of cold air with no sense of certainty. Should she call her employer and ask for leave? Is there any place to go?

Shit.

Dartsy glanced at her bracelet in panic. Show keys. After a brief animation, the word EMPTY. She sprinted back to Jeremy's apartment and slammed the door shut, paws on her ears, screaming loud enough to wake the neighbors. Aaaaaa—oh my God! How could I be such an idiot? How could I possibly agree to that? She placed a hand on her chest, gasping for breath.

The fennecs stared back at her, frozen in fear.

Jeremy! Jeremy, I'm sorry—Jer?

He was in the shower, trying to wash away the pain he inflicted on himself years ago. Oh dear sweet Jesus fuck, go away, is what he thought. I'm coming, is what he said.

Still lathered in soap from neck to toe, without even so much as putting a towel on he burst open the door to the living area.

Jeremy screamed, What?

Dartsy leaned against the wall, crying uncontrollably. The chaos that took place over the past 24 hours? It was all too much to take in. The life she was hoping to build destroyed by a merciless onslaught piling down upon her, like a blizzard that pummeled on the roof more intensely until it fell apart and shattered everything that she built to the very foundation.

Embarrassed, Jeremy took a step forward, and then a step back. Nothing made sense anymore, and no matter how hard he could try there was just no way he could possibly relate to what was happening in front of him; he was too scared to try.

What's wrong, he asked. I'm sorry. I didn't--

Dartsy ran toward Jeremy, picking the fox up and hugging his warm, soapy fur. It's not you, she said, sobbing into it. I-I screwed up. I know you don't remember. I'm sorry. Please forgive me. She kissed him on the top of his muzzle and set him down as if he were a feral dog. He looked up.

I can't go back, she exclaimed with her paw across her forehead, wailing at the reality that she couldn't avoid. Breathing in, she confessed to him what had to be done, I need someplace to stay. I'm sorry.

All right, Jeremy whispered. All right. Do what has to be done. The couch has a hideaway bed, and we got plenty of food in the fridge. Just—

Yes, the vixen asked.

Just let me take my shower, and don't interrupt the fennecs during their private time.

What if it's on the sofa? Dartsy looked back at it and saw two pairs of underwear and nothing more. She was still not pleased, though maybe if she started masturbating they would have went away.

Tell them to go to their bedroom. I'll talk them about it, help clear things up.

Okay. Jeremy and Dartsy looked into each other’s eyes, as Jeremy was too nervous to approach, she held out her paw. Thank you. Jeremy reached his arm out; she squeezed it tight and pulled him back in. By the way, she told him in his ear canal, My name is Dartsy Jane and don't you forget it. She shoved him back into the bathroom and he slammed the door shut.

Dartsy's bracelet vibrated. She looked at it and read the scrolling text: Where are you?

Figures, he thought. He walked quickly towards the shower, still running, and sat down. He pushed a button on the side; a dash of blue liquid fell from the faucet, then he watched the tub fill with warm, soapy water. He lay his head back on the pillow, trying to wash away the pain he inflicted on himself years ago, and glanced back toward the mirror. 5:25.

Chapter 2

Jeremy was walking around some kind of rustic village in the middle of the woods. It was a tourist-y place with shops, bars, and restaurants. It was pure, strange, and somehow surreal. He took a whiff of the fresh Autumn air, but—hold on. It was daytime and there was nobody walking around, nothing to be seen. He looked inside a window and saw a merchant without customers ready to greet them as if there were. Strange. It must be a weekday.

He walked up and down the hills and stairs, then started running. There were no cars in the streets and no authority figures in sight. It was all empty and beautiful, so he kept running around like a five-year-old, back and forth, and when he turned around a third time started seeing people. They were in a good mood so he didn't care. After a bit of running, he couldn't help but notice that the wind was at his back no matter where he went.

Behind him he could hear a loud motor. Looking behind him, the image of an ancient Corvette from the human era, the 11-970s, came to his mind. The noise was becoming fiercer, and instead of running with joy, he was beginning to think that he was running from something, but why? People were screaming at him, angry at the fact that he was there, and the unnatural pink freak was chased into the twilight. He looked back and saw that they were all humans, they were only humans in varying pigments of skin, and try as he might to maneuver around them by going up the sidewalks or stairs, he would only be thrown back into the street, like some kind of twisted video game.

The daylight turned dark, and the headlights were becoming brighter on him, making a bigger shadow, the engine becoming louder. Yet there was hope. He saw a hotel with an iron crescent moon sculpture about 100 meters away, but it was up a hill. He kept sprinting, but the engine roared louder still. He kept sprinting; the hotel creeped closer to him. The wind was so intense that he was floating towards it. The door was standing right in front of him, and as he reached out his arm to grab it, trying desperately to pull against the wind and get inside. The horn honked, and in the ensuing panic the door cracked as it was pulled. After reaching his arm inside, he pushed it open only to find—

Knock knock.

Aah!

Jeremy jumped out of his trance and looked down, hearing water splash to the floor. He was still in the tub. The suds were still there, and light in the water beneath in the gaps between continued to change colors; a red changing to green.

Jeremy, I have to pee!

He hissed. Renard!

I got it, he responded. As Dartsy went into the restroom Jeremy looked at the clock. 5:58. He quickly let his head back into the tub, knowing what was about to come next, then closed his eyes again. I'm not looking. He heard Dartsy unzip her pants and slam the toilet seat down.

Dartsy looked at him with disgust, but he couldn't see. You've been in there for like an hour! What the fuck? '

It’s been 40 minutes, he heard a mysterious voice next to Dartsy say, 25 minutes longer than the recommended bathing time with air jets, Minnesota Department of Health, 71.

All right, Steve, don't be a smartass.

Knowing full well there was someone else like him in the room, Renard chimed in for his morning duties at 6:00! A faint beep could be heard in every room as Renard changed the lighting from a luminescent blue to a cool daylight color. Good morning, rise and shine! Wakie wakie wakie! For those of you that don't know, today is the 6th of December, 74. Fun trivia: this is the longest streak that Jeremy has ever streaked in here! Congratulations!

Jeremy opened his eyes and rolled them.

The blizzard conditions from yesterday are expected to continue so if you plan on going outside it looks like walking will be your best option because why wear a jacket when you don't have to? High minus four degrees, low -15. Here are your stock market futures and sports scores. Things are looking up for the S&P 500, but the Minnesota Wild did fall to the Winnipeg Jets 2-3. Would you like to hear today's top stories?

No, Dartsy responded.

Okay, then that's your morning brief! See you this evening! The lights were brightened to their maximum fullness. The next few days fared no better. The snowfall gave way to bitter cold, with temperatures dipping as low as -21.

Jeremy pushed a button next to him, which opened the drain, as he stood up and grabbed the towel next to him. The blue spots on his chest and the double-striped pattern on his arms were clearly not natural, but Dartsy was too afraid to ask.

So, what are your plans for today?

Nothing much, replied Jeremy. I was just planning to watch some TV and snuggle under the blanket, and with that he ran into the bedroom to put on clothes as quickly as he could.

Dartsy's bracelet vibrated. She moved her wrist up to look at the scrolling text.

Dearest Dartsy: the police have informed us that there was a sex crime that took place last night involving you. We have decided to give you a week of PTO. This will have no impact on your currently accrued vacation or sick leave. Your pending cases has been moved to other attorneys. My sincerest condolences. I really hope things work out.

-Grant

I'm clean, I'm clean, she heard Jeremy yell in his bedroom.

Does that mean I'm in the clear, she thought, or does that mean he doesn't like me? Does he think I'm some kind of slut?

Dartsy cleared her throat.

Um, yes' Jeremy asked. Is there something I can do?

Want to go get brunch? Now would be a good chance to clear things up and, if all goes well, start over.

I don't know where I could pick up that much food right now. It would be like an hour walk to the University and the places next to it.

There's an Italian place I'd like to go to. They have a buffet. We can also go to the food court building by the assembly, maybe even meet some of the Senators. The government's food court has been open to the public since the state demolished the old capitol building and replaced it with another. Every floor had a different type of establishment, each one leased to a private company. On the bottom floor, there was an automat. Above that there was a cafeteria, currently run by Dilly's. Above that was a series of fast-food chains, and above that was a fine dining area on one side and a strip club on the other. They do not get along with each other, but then again maybe that was their intent all along.

Flip a coin, Renard.

Food court, he replied. It was not a random decision.

Well that settles that, said Dartsy. Will the fennecs be okay?

Oh, said Jeremy, somewhat disappointed. Why—ee—err...

Because, said Dartsy, We need to talk about a few things. She flushed the toilet, pulled her panties back up and re-fastened her pants. She stepped into the other room and looked down at Jeremy, petting his head. We need to discuss how we first met and what we're going to do about it. We can also talk about ourselves while we're at it. I know this is all a shock to you, but we'll get through it.

Jeremy returned a blank stare.

This is a date, she clarified.

Oh, Jeremy responded, blushing. Of all the thoughts and feelings swirling in his head at this very moment, the most he could muster was okay.

It's not easy for me either, Dartsy sighed. She crossed her arms and looked down at the floor and took a moment to collect her thoughts. Let's leave at about 19. The skyway shouldn't be busy then. I got to e-mail my employer and tell them I lost all my keys, to send me new ones. Oh, and by the way,

Yes, said Jeremy, numb to whatever criticism she was going to lash out at him.

I need to use your washer and drier. These are the only clothes I have. Would you mind walking me to it? Dartsy held out her paw, and Jeremy grabbed it, shaking violently. Sure! I would love to! Let's go do it! I'll even walk you back! Jeremy yanked Dartsy down the hall, though the door and into the hallway and they ran, as if they were running from an angry mob, down the hallway as if up a hill, able to make it up the stairs, even hearing a neighbor shout Hey, at the total disregard for her safety, down another hallway and into the door to the laundry room crept closer and closer still.

Jeremy opened the door to find the washer/driers, each with their own built-in soap dispenser, and the vending machines. The electric multi-space heaters kicked in. Triggered by a switch in the door, the ceramic heating elements ignited. In three seconds the fans kicked on, blowing from the corners just above the floor toward the middle of the room. They ran until the room touched 22 degrees. With no one in there they only ran occasionally so the pipes wouldn’t freeze, to about 5 or so.

The last person in there changed all the TV projections to KARE11. Now it was completely empty. Just take it off and throw it in! Let science do the rest! Hurry hurry, don't want anyone to see you naked! He heard a drop from the vending machine and ran towards it. Fizz!

I'm sorry, Renard chimed in from one of the side speakers. He gets a little excited when he has to do the laundry. His parents kept rewarding him every time he did it for the family, and I've been doing the same. You know how it is.

Dartsy took a glance at the vending machine, watching Jeremy gulp down his favorite pop and burp it violently in the same minute, and laughing hysterically and falling to the floor.

He usually doesn't do that part.

While he was over there, Dartsy jumped out of her clothes as quickly as she could. The jeans, the panties, the shirt depicting a hockey puck being hit with a stick, and her bra all went in at once.

Jeremy lay down on the floor, grinning at the thought of the latest meme and how it applied to him. He glanced over and saw the gray vixen pouting at him from a distance. He sat up and took a good look at her face, wondering what her height was in comparison to his own. It couldn't have been less than two meters, or was it? About that height, anyway.

Dartsy walked toward him and reached out her paw.

I'm sorry.

Get up, she commanded.

Jeremy held out his hand and she yanked him from the floor, nearly dislocating his shoulder—again, blushing.

She pointed assertively at one of the machines three meters away. You too, boy.

Hell no, these are clean, he shouted, hugging one of his favorite polo shirts.

Then I guess we're not doing this.

Without hesitation, he took the shirt off, threw it in from, his pants, and his undies. There. He crossed his arms and pouted.

All right, Dartsy replied, petting him on the back with one of her big paws. Okay, Jeremy, let's go home.

Jeremy walked forward, and in a sudden change of mood grabbed that paw, and ran to the door. Hey!

Come on!

He let go and they ran together; for the first time in a long time they felt ready for the world, ready to face the obstacles. Down the stairs, they went, now toward their apartment, toward woman that shouted Hey, ready to jump above the obnoxious Corvette and all the bitterness behind it, behind the cowards, the destroyers, and the people that hide the truth, away from the hotel with an iron crescent moon and into the unknown.

Chapter 3

Are you all set, Jeremy quivered, knocking on the bathroom door. He was wearing a blue golf shirt with a dash of white around the collar and khakis that he found at a thrift store a few years back. No sense in ever telling Dartsy that; at least, not right this second. Maybe at some point he'll tell her about his entire current wardrobe. I don't think I'll be able to do that anymore, he thought.

He already knew what she was going to wear; she just washed it an hour ago. They were going to have to completely—or she was. You know, shopping. They'll probably have to go to the Mall of America. Yes, he thought. A natural ending to a perfect date.

I'm almost done!

Jeremy wasn't concerned as much about the way she looked or what their plans were so much as if she'd approve of what he was