This is a very important story to me. This is an excerpt from an old project that I dug up, rewrote and decided to publish here for you all to see. I would really love some feedback, just because of how important this is to me. Although I know it's very confusing because it's so far in, I've actually provided enough information for you all to know what is going on. One other thing, I would really like to get some artwork done for this because of how important to me it is and how much of my life I spent working on this and fixing it up (Nearly three years). If anybody would have the courtesy to do that for me, please drop me a line. If not, thanks anyways. Thanks for your time and enjoy.

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Chapter 21: If This Is It

The heavy metal door creaks open slowly as I push it with a single strong hand. The noise reverberates throughout the full, yet dark and empty warehouse. When the door is open far enough to allow my and John’s entrance, I let the door go and return my right hand to the stock of the rifle held across my chest.
Stepping forward, I disappear into the darkness of the warehouse within. The sound of my shoes quietly brushes the ground, kicking up loose pebbles on top of the relatively new concrete floor. John follows slowly behind, his hulking horse body barely fitting through the open door.
Suddenly I hear a loud bang and swing around, raising the Spencer Rifle up into my shoulder to ready myself for a fight. When the rifle is locked on what made the noise, I calm myself down. John smiles at me awkwardly, a bit of redness showing through his brown fur on his horse face. His shotgun has banged against the metal door on the side of the door leading out onto the docks.
“Goddamn it John.” I whisper to him angrily as I lower the rifle.
“Sorry.” He says sheepishly.
Holding the rifle against my body again, I turn around and look around into the darkness. The entire warehouse is filled with huge crates that are lined up row after row nearly seven feet high, making it appear like an orchard of boxes. Even through the darkness, I know that John has revealed us to the enemy. No doubt, whoever arrived here before us is waiting, hiding, spying on us whilst shrouded in the shadows.
But, licking my wolf lips, I step forward and begin towards the first row of tall crates, hoping to find whoever this person, or persons, is and eliminate them before they can eliminate us. John, though, the cowardly pony, has been no help and is no help. Turning my head, I look back and see him slowly following me, his fearful eyes looking around in the darkness as well.
“Danny,” he says and turns his eyes upon me, “I don’t think this is such a good idea.”
“Hush, dammit.” I whisper loudly in return. “Dawn and Kenny have gone round the side of the building. They’ll reinforce us from there.” I look away from him and peer down the aisle between two lines of crates, into the darkness and unknown. “Let’s just hope that we can straighten things out before they have to intervene.”
Turning around, I look to John and see him swallow hard in response. Despite being nearly twice my size, he still is the same coward he always was. He’s a good-looking womanizer with a strong body who doesn’t know how the hell to use it. I can see him breathing heavily and his arms shake as they attempt to hold steady the double-barreled British shotgun.
Shaking my head, I raise one hand up into the air. Using a little bit of my police officer knowledge, I motion for him to go a few aisles up and to take position there. Knowing what it is that I want, he nods his head and jerkily turns to his right. Seconds later, he disappears. The last thing that I see of him is that new horse tail of his shaking around fitfully.
Once he is gone, I turn and slowly walk up into the first aisle with my eyes scanning over what is ahead as not to fall into any traps that may have been laid for me. The only sound that hits my ears is the scuffling sound of my new shoes that have been tailored to fit my new digitigrade paws rubbing against the concrete floor. Also my breathing, which has gotten out of my control despite my cop intuition and experience, rises and falls through the darkness.
Lifting my eyes up, I look up to the windows that ring the warehouse near the top of the building. They let some light shine in, but, barely enough to illuminate the warehouse. I can see the dust floating through the sunlight, which calms me a little bit. Lowering my eyes, I stop walking and look to a crate to my left.
Stepping up to it, I lower my rifle towards the ground, holding it only with my left hand, and touch a label that has been pasted onto the wooden outside. The label reads, “Contents: 400 vials of Slave’s Antidote. Ship this to the King’s Storehouse in New York City in New York City Province. FRAGILE, DO NOT DROP.” Smiling, I know that I am finally going to go home. I rub my hand across the label and smile even wider.
Suddenly there is a loud bang and the wooden wall of the crate before me explodes as a hole is made just above my hand. I jump back and swing the rifle up into my shoulder. Hearing laughter around me, I fall backwards onto my behind and throw my back against the face of the crate on the other side of the aisle. Looking at the crate I was moments ago examination, I see a bullet hole the size of an orange in it. Serum streams out and runs down the wood in a milky-white stream.
“Dammit.” I say under my breath.
From somewhere in the warehouse, I hear the telltale ‘click-click’ of a reloading pump of a lever-action rifle. Finally I know who it is that has beaten us to the Serum. It’s Gallows. He’s not only beaten us to the treasure, but has trapped us within feet of our prize, of our ticket home. By doing this, he has only added insult to injury, by killing us moments before our quest ends.
“I’ve been waiting for you, you bloody stupid rebels.” I hear Gallows’ say, his voice raspy, deep and commanding rumbling from somewhere in the warehouse.
The comment echoes off of the walls of the warehouse, not allowing me to locate where exactly it came from. My ears, though, flick back and forth, trying to find its source as hard as they can. My tail, bushy and in pain since I landed directly on it, whips around beneath me, illustrating my internal frustration. Gasping, I look up and down the aisle, but see nobody there.
“Where are you?” I loudly demand from the coyote.
There is no response, but that is not surprising. Gasping for breath and frightened out of my mind, I push myself up from the ground and immediately throw my body against the wall of wood behind me. I hug the Spencer Repeater against my chest and look up the aisle in the direction opposite from which I came.
“This is going to turn into a massacre if I don’t kill him soon.” I say to myself, much louder than I would have liked.
“Oh, indeed, Rebel, absolutely, you are correct.” I hear Gallows taunt, his tone light and playful, but his voice deep and raspy, a leather lung like Dusty Hill. “When I was ordered to kill you, I was very much surprised. I couldn’t understand what King Andrew saw in you, what kind of a threat you could possibly pose to his empire. I mean, Britain controls the world, you know. But when I found you in that town outside of New Orleans, I thought I would play a little. I was just scouting you at that train station, Rebel. But you were still lucky to get away, real lucky.”
Raising the rifle up to my shoulder, I dig the butt into my body and begin to slide along the wall towards the end, no doubt ruining my jeans and Led Zeppelin shirt in the process. I can hear my breathing going faster, racing with my heart deep in my chest.
“Where are you?” I cry out again.
“Aw, but that would ruin our fun.” Gallows announces mockingly. “The second time you were damned lucky. I would never have guessed that you would have suspected that innocent Rebel soldier as being an assassin. The third time, well, that was even better luck on your part. I never would have thought that that bitch of yours would have spotted me hiding on the walls of that fort in Charleston Harbor.”
Then he is quiet for the longest time. My ears twitch and turn about, searching still for Gallows’ location in this dark warehouse. All the while, my eyes dart about, scanning through the darkness for him alongside my ears. I cannot see him, nor can I understand how he can see me from wherever he is. These boxes are nearly seven feet tall, there’s no way he can see over them! I just don’t understand it.
“Luck doesn’t come around a fourth time, you filthy slave.” I hear Gallows say calmly. “I’m going . . . to kill you.”
Suddenly gunshots ring out through the calm of the warehouse. They implode all around me. One goes into the top of the crate above me, throwing splinters all over my clothes. Another pierces the concrete floor in front of me, spraying stone dust up onto me. Finally a third shot dives into the crate opposite of me.
The last shot forces me to run, for my life. Stepping away from the crates, I drop low and hold the rifle against my body. Running as fast as I can, I sprint towards the end of the aisle. Gunshots ricochet off of objects around me, spraying me with debris. Crazed laughter echoes through the open warehouse. Finally, after a short sprint, the gunshots fade off. I drop to the ground and kneel, gasping for breath and looking around with wide eyes and perked ears.
I hear him giggling somewhere, as he reloads as he no doubt has run out of ammunition at this point. My body begins to calm itself down and I relax a little bit when suddenly I hear a loud gunshot from somewhere else in the warehouse. The muscles in my legs tense up, but, I loosen them when I realize that it’s John shooting off one of the barrels of his shotgun.
“Oh, oh, ooh, Rebel, have you brought some friends to play with?” Gallows asks tauntingly. “Well, more the bloodier, my prey.”
I look upwards towards the ceiling of the warehouse and then close my eyes, holding them tight shut. John has done something stupid that I know he wouldn’t have done back home. I don’t understand what he is thinking.
“Get down, John!” I scream. “I don’t know where the sadistic bastard is!”
“I’m trying to find him!” I hear John reply. “I’ve noticed that the gunshots are coming from all around. These crates are too tall to shoot over. He must be somewhere above us!”
Slowly, I open my eyes and stare up towards the dark ceiling above me. Lowering my head just a tiny bit, I suddenly see a metal catwalk hanging from the ceiling above me. Reaching out, I hold onto the side of the crate and push myself up onto my paws. Following it with my eyes, I realize that the metal catwalk works its way around the entire perimeter of the warehouse. That would allow Gallows to shoot down at us from anywhere that he wanted to.
“Or there must be more than one of him!” John adds. “It’s just impossible. He must have friends!”
“Or so it seems.” I whisper to myself.
Walking forward, I follow the catwalk with my eyes, but, I can’t see over the boxes. Even if I could, that would only reveal me for Gallows to kill. I have to draw him out and I have to do it somehow without allowing him any moment that he can put a bullet between my eyes.
Thinking hard, I can only think of one thing and am not entirely sure that it will even work. But, figuring that it’s the only chance that I have, I slowly kneel down and raise my hands up to my muzzle. Cupping them around my nose, holding the rifle with my knees, I take a deep breath and begin to loosen up my vocal chords.
With the only special skill I have, I begin to form a plan in my head and begin to stretch and pull my vocal chords until they resemble that of Grant’s. Although I only spent a little bit of time with Grant, it was long enough that I am able to mimic his voice. Licking my lips, I take a deep breath and think. Gallows must know that Grant and his troops captured Lynchburg yesterday and have been using the rail system to come towards Baltimore. I am going to use that to my advantage.
“Surround the building!” I cry out, mimicking Grant’s voice flawlessly. “We don’t want that son of a bitch getting away once more! He’s killed too many of us to get away again!”
Suddenly I begin to hear footsteps on metal and lift my eyes up to look to the catwalk above. But after about five steps, everything is silent again.
“You can’t trick me that easily, you filthy Rebel!” Gallows screams insultingly. “I’m not that stupid!”
“You could have fooled me.” I whisper to myself.
“Ready yourselves!” I yell, still mimicking Grant’s voice. “If he tries to make an escape, shoot him dead. If he doesn’t come out of the building, be ready to torch the damn thing to smoke him out! Get your weapons ready!”
“That isn’t Ulysses, dammit, you can’t fool me!” Gallows cries out.
There is silence, although I can hear footsteps somewhere outside. And if I can hear those footsteps, it is to be sure that Gallows can hear them as well. Seconds later, I hear him begin to walk around up on the metal catwalk and turn my eyes upwards to try to see him. I grab my rifle and begin to move forward, as quietly as I possibly can. Those footsteps must be from Kenny and Dawn, who have waited long enough for us to kill Gallows and get the antidote.
“Ah, dammit, I’m getting out of here.” I hear Gallows say.
Loud footsteps begin to reverberate through the darkness of the warehouse and know that my chance has come. Shooting up to my paws, I pull my rifle up from the ground and shoulder it and step out into the middle of the aisle. Rushing towards the end of the aisle, I raise the rifle up and see a figure moving quickly away from me.
Before I can squeeze off a shot, he disappears and reappears on the other side of the warehouse. As I round the end of the aisle, I rush forward to try to intercept him before he can reach the ground floor. Sprinting to the end of the room, I stop at the end of the last aisle and peek around the crate.
Halfway up the building, I see a set of metal stairs leading up into the catwalk. A cloaked figure begins to descend the stairs from the catwalk. Seeing my chance, I shoulder the rifle once again, which I dropped to my waist so that I can sprint, and put him down through the sights.
Halfway down the stairs, I line him up with the rifle and then with a strong thumb, pull the hammer back. Smiling, knowing that this is finally coming to an end, I pull the trigger. The sound of the shot ricochets throughout the warehouse before the bullet drills into him and sends him tumbling forward, down the stairs, going head over heel and heel over head, until he slams onto the concrete floor below.
Lowering the rifle, I step forward gently, taking deep, comforting breaths in order to calm myself down. Seconds later, I see John appear at the other end of the warehouse and begin to come towards me at about the same pace, with his shotgun hanging at his waist. As I approach Gallows, I look down over him and slow my pace up to a leisurely stroll.
John and I stop walking right before the pile of brown, black and white clothes that hide Gallows’ body. John breathes ever slower as his body calms down as well. Reaching up, he wipes his face with his right hand as he knows that we have reached the end. King Andrew’s right hand is dead and we are now free.
“Thank God.” John says happily. “We’re finally going to go home.”
Suddenly a metal door opens up just beside where Gallows’ body rests and Dawn comes walking in with a pistol in her hand. Kenny, the shy little fox, stands right behind her, a rifle held across his body. As the cream-white colored boots that Dawn wears step into the building, suddenly Gallows ceases to be dead.
Flying upwards, Gallows throws his arms around Dawn and produces a Bowie knife from inside the heavy brown cloak he wears. Dawn cries out in fear and surprise and before I can think, he has the knife to her throat. Both John and I raise our weapons up to aim them at Gallows.
“Drop them!” Gallows commands. “Drop them or I’ll slit her pretty little rough collie throat!”
Dawn looks to me with her beautiful blue eyes, begging me to save her, when she cannot save herself. Raising her hands up, she drops the pistol that she clenches beneath her cream-white right glove. Gallows stares at us with jet black eyes from beneath his brown hat. Smiling, he knows that he has one thing that can get him out of here.
“Now, I’m going to back up the stairs and go out through the second floor and the ladder on the side of the building. If I even suspect that you’ll do something stupid, its curtains for her.” Gallows sternly says.
Looking down, I see blood pooling on the ground. I know that I have shot him, but I don’t know where. Gallows looks to me and gasps for breath, his face showing pain the likes of which I haven’t seen in a long time. I think I’ve shot him in the gut, which is a death sentence in this age. Even if he were to get away, he would be dead anyways.
Despite his injury, Gallows begins to walk backwards, up the metal stairs that lead to the catwalk above. He drags down along with him, who tries to keep upright and to keep him from harming her further. Angry beyond all belief, I keep my rifle on his head at all times. But I don’t want to threaten Dawn any further. I don’t want to even imagine what I would do if she were to be harmed.
Gallows limps up the stairs, dragging Dawn, who goes only reluctantly, with him. When he reaches the top of the stairs, he walks backwards slowly, his limping gate making a ‘tha-thunk’ sound on the metal grate. Kenny steps into the warehouse as well and we all keep our weapons poised on that horrible coyote.
After the longest thirty seconds of my life, Gallows pushes open the heavy door and disappears out of the warehouse. I growl loudly and charge forward, but before I can get very far, I feel a hand on my shoulder stop me from advancing. Swinging around, I meet John’s eyes and see him trying to calm me down.
“Don’t do anything stupid.” He says.
“What?” I demand of him. “What are you talking about?”
“What do you mean, what am I talking about?” He screams at me. “You remember! Years back, when you rushed into that burning building! It messed you up for life!”
“If you’re not careful,” Kenny says quietly, as gentle, quiet and shy as he usually is, “you’re going to end up not only very hurt, but without her too.”
When I look to Kenny, I suddenly feel myself calming down. His black ears fold back, hiding themselves against his headfur. My brow loosens up and I stop gasping for breath angrily. Then my shoulders lower and I nod my head slowly. Turning about, I slowly step forward.
Climbing the metal stairs with each strong step, I load a new shell into the rifle with one movement of the lever action. Then I try to keep myself concentrated as I charge forward with controlled anger and laser-precise determination. The sounds of my pawsteps reverberate through the warehouse, but, I hear nothing but the angry voice screaming in my head.
Going towards the door leading outside, possibly onto the roof of the smaller building that stood beside the dockside warehouse, I shoulder the rifle and step out into the blinding light of the August day. Closing my eyes for only a moment, I open them and stare out onto the tan roof. As I look around, I hear Dawn whimper, like a dog, calling me for help.
Turning my head, I see Gallows dragging Dawn towards the back of the building, towards a crane that sits on the dock between the warehouse and the dock. With the knife still pressed to her throat, he drags her across a board that bridges the gap between the building and the old, wooden crane.
When Gallows sees me, he stops walking and then I see the glint of his toothy smile in the sunlight. He twists the silver Bowie against the cream-white underbelly that stands juxtaposed against her deep brow fur, tilting his head downwards to watch his act. Then he raises his eyes back up and sadistically stares at me, as if pleased with what I’ve done.
“You don’t understand the meaning of ‘don’t do something stupid’, do you, you dirty slave?” Gallows asks me calmly.
“No, you sick prick, I don’t.” I answer.
Stepping forward, I place him down the sights of my rifle and wait for my chance. Gallows doesn’t seem intimidated by me or my rifle and simply smiles wider as I step slowly closer to him. Dawn’s mouth opens and she cries to me in a long whimper. Tears form in her eyes. My heart is being pulled apart and yet I can do nothing to end this now.
Gallows’ head is too close to hers. I wouldn’t want to accidentally shoot her instead of him. And, at this point, there is no way to separate him from her, or the weapon from him. All I can do now is move closer to him and hope that I can get in a good shot before this ends outside of my control.
But before I can make an attempt at taking control of the situation, Dawn decides to do it herself. She bears her teeth and elbows Gallows and then fights to try to get his arm from around her body. Gallows, surprised, becomes immediately angry and tightens his grip around her body.
“Kill him!” Dawn cries out.
“Shut your muzzle, you dirty bitch!” Gallows angrily orders. “That’s it, you’re dead!”
Growling loudly, he reels back, pulling the knife away from her neck, in order to plunge it down into her throat. Suddenly, when I see the glimmer of the knife in the afternoon light, out away from Dawn, I see my chance. Moving the sights of the rifle to the left, I line it up with the glimmer of the knife.
Then, without using any thought, only the feeling in my gut and heart, I pull the trigger. The rifle recoils into my shoulder and a heavy shell flies out and away from me. It catches the blade of the knife and sends it flying forward. Gallows swings his head around and watches as the blade flies through the air.
It twists and turns against the blue of the sky and then plummets downwards. Finally, it disappears into the choppy blue of the Baltimore Harbor below. Gallows watches it go and then growls loudly, his ears folding back through the opening in his hat. Without a weapon to harm her with, Dawn growls and then stomps down onto Gallows’ paw before he can look back.
Gallows cries out in pain and then pushes Dawn forward, forcing her to fall onto the wooden board. She screams in fear when she hits the board and then wraps her arms around it to keep from rolling off and falling three stories down into the harbor below. Gallows growls and turns around, running towards the end of the crane to try to get away.
With little thought, I pump a new shell into the chamber of the rifle, automatically cocking the hammer, and line it up with the fleeing Gallows. Gallows rushes to the other side of the crane platform and then climbs up onto the railing. He then readies himself to dive into the rolling waters.
As he pushes off and dives out over the water, I pull the trigger of the rifle one last time. The bullet pierces the back of Gallows’ head and takes his hat right off of his head. Lifeless and limp as a wet noodle, the coyote tumbles into the sea below, smashing into the water and disappearing within seconds.
With my heart racing like an engine and with my body shakes from my shot nerves and crippling fear, I drop the rifle to the ground and begin to step forward. Dawn lifts her head up and looks to me out from under her cream-colored cowboy hat. Sniffling and teary-eyed, her eyes meet mine and she forces herself to smile.
My slow steps turn into a sprint and before I know it, I drop to my knees in front of her and reach out to help her up from the wooden board. She climbs up to her knees and then smiles as her eyes connect with and hold mine. Smiling in return, as if forced by my subconscious, I reach out and grab her shoulder and help her towards the edge of the roof.
When her knee-high boots touch the gravelly roof, she throws her arms around me and embraces me, pressing her body against me. I throw my arms around her and put my muzzle on her shoulder, embracing her as tightly as I can. Listening to her breathing calm and her sniffling stop, I hold her and hug her.
Seconds later she gently pushes herself away from me and then holds me at arm’s length. Her beautiful blue eyes thank me silently as she tries to stop crying for long enough to try to say something. I smile, staying silent as well, staring over her shiny fur, button nose and long, brown hair, making me love her ever more with each passing second.
“I thought I was going to lose you.” I tell her quietly.
“And I thought I was going to lose you too.” She gently replies. “But now I’m safe. We’re safe. And downstairs is enough Antiserum to return you and John and Kenny to being human and then you can go . . .” suddenly she stops talking and looks to me. Her smile goes away and her eyes flicker and flutter as they refuse to make eye contact with me any further, “. . . home.”
“Yeah . . .” I say, unsure of my own words, “let’s get down off this roof. We’ll go meet John and Kenny and decide what we’re going to do next.”
Dawn smiles and then nods her head. Helping her forward, she steps down onto the roof and then stands up, her arms wrapped around my shoulders. When she stands on her own two legs, she places her head on my shoulder. Finally, we turn and begin towards the door to meet up with my friends to decide our fate in this world.