Killian’s Last Words...

By Mr. David Reese Dorrycott

Date? I cannot truly recall the day. I think it may be the sixteenth of November, but anywhere within a week of that may be just as true. 1937 for certain. Forgive me my old friend. For I find that it is difficult now to keep my thoughts in order. Four long years it has been since we last spoke, then so cryptically. Well here I am. A world famous reporter for the infamous London Thymes being transported from China to you by two women. Such an odd twist of fate yes? Myself, such a handsome figure of a bulldog. So rough, so powerful, always the hero. Now I am reduced to a limp body lying on the floor of a Hun designed bomber. One built by the Japanese and stolen from a Chinese Warlord of all things. Ah well. You did say I would leave this life colorfully, didn’t you?

Beware of Illie, for you are no match for her. I think perhaps none I have ever known could survive her anger. If she is able to anger. She is more than fur, so much more. Look into her eyes and you will see what I saw. Trust her yes, remember that she is a lance, once released she will complete the task you give her. Once released nothing may stop her, or deter her path. She owes me her life. Perhaps her soul. She has sworn to serve Helen. She will help you, though never publically. Treat her well. She has had a bad paw dealt to her. I believe that there are very few alive today that are her match, yet she wears the white hat just as you. As the four of us did so long ago.

She would have been an excellent, if somewhat frightening fifth musketeer.

Helen. You were right my friend. One day I would find another to fill my heart. Yet why did it have to be so late? Still I would rather have had these few days with her, or Babbet, than a thousand years with any other. They are much the same. I think that you will agree. Beware her eyes my friend, for as Babbet’s they are endless depths that draw a mans soul. She is a good woman, as good as Babbet. Like Babbet she is my wife. I promise you that she will never try to approach you. I have her oath on that. Beware though those eyes, for no mans soul may long survive their gaze.

Unless they are foppish, still even then I think she is the secret weapon we needed to end the Great War.

We escape China yet I am dying. No wound given in the heroic rescue of these two women. No poisoned arrow sent by some dark warrior. No, I have a tumor within my brain. It has always been inoperable. I was dead the moment those first cells divided. Yet knowing you, our friends. I have lived a better life than I could have ever dreamed.

As the Chinese curse goes, we have truly lived in interesting times my friend. Watch over Helen. She and the child she carries are all I leave behind of any worth. Teach my child.....

(Illegible scrawl, as though the writer had jerked in extreme pain. Text continues on the following page with a different pen.)

My apologies Antonius. I am not a well man anymore. Teach my child what he or she needs to know to survive. Tell no lies, spare no pain. I would rather my child, I do hope for a boy, I would rather he, or she, have a difficult time than walk open eyed into the nest I found. As I did.

I have found true hell Antonius. I had thought that watching madfurs murder the best of their nation in an orgy of self fulfilling destruction was horrible. Even their worst was nothing to the hive I freely stepped into. By now Helen has given my books, and those of Xiùme to your local authorities. I do not trust authorities, not after my visit to Prussia. Not after the Great War. No, to you I leave the greatest truths. There are those who prey upon others for their profit. Prey as the trapper does upon a mindless beast. They call themselves the Brotherhood of the Boneless. They are worldwide. Give them no quarter. Give them no chance. Give those who buy their product the same. Nothing. Give them death upon sight, for they live by reducing those who walk on two legs into clothing, food, false medicine. You stopped one, an Italian fur named Potiere. I read about it in a Chinese Hall’s library. Spontoon is off limits now. Its police force ‘too effective, too hard to subvert.’ Yet Potiere alone sent over fifty young women to their deaths, shipping their pelts, their... their meat, their organs, their dried ground bones to China. Before you stopped him. Here they were sold to the masses. Pelts turned into clothing or seat covers or rugs and shipped to other nations. Helen, Illie, they will tell you the all of it, though as I recall your Cantonese is somewhat lacking. You will need Helen to speak with Illie, until the fox learns English, or that German of yours. These others though are madfurs, they are not worthy of life....

(Illegible scrawl again....)

Is it still 1932? Who are those two women who care for me? Was I shot? Are we escaping Prussia? My head still aches from that beating. We tried so hard, there were so many solders, so many solders. I am chasing several of your judges back to China. I will deal with them. Most harshly. I promise you that. You escaped, that was our doing. Actually the Frenchmen’s doing. Madfur he is. Crazy idea. Crazy yet it worked. That luger you gave me came in quite handy, the little bitch rabbit who was in charge of your detail died still drawing her pistol. I think she was seventeen. Children. Mad children. We are fools to give them responsibility before they are ready. Do not forgive them my friend. They knew exactly what they were doing.

Four musketeers, missing the smartest among us.

(In block print)

Hard to see, must be the head wound from Some. Damnation, if I can’t see how will I be able to attend your trial? Ah, a nurse is here. She has my medication. Pretty thing, sweet voice. I will have to mention her to Babbet. I will see you soon. I will not let the world believe you insane.

(Next page is in a woman’s paw)

Mr. Von Toews. My husband is delirious, yet he has his lucid moments. I will endeavor to write what he says during those lucid times. Killian. I am afraid that he is now blind. He is taking so much opiate for his pain that his words ramble. I do not believe that he will make Spontoon. Our engines are running hot. Illie believes bad fuel. I will bind this in oil cloth and place it in a cask should we crash. I hope that it will reach you, if I do not.

                                                                                                                                 Helen Whitehall.

Well Antonius. Seem’s I’ve been rambling. Ignore all that, its nothing but mad dreams. Wasn’t even in Prussia when you escaped. Helen and Illie are taking the best of care of me. Don’t bother my family about my death, wouldn’t care anyway. I certainly don’t. You three have been my family, now I add Helen.

Of her. She will give you my final message. I hope you remember it. A ring, yes a ring. She will give you a ring. Watch for that mark. It may be the only clue you get as to the evil before you.

Wish I could see you again, at least talk to you. You hide well my friend. Better than those who ran to China. I left the last floating down the Yellow River, his stomach open for the fish to feed. Rest well, we all three selected our targets. Those who hurt you so badly. You are avenged my friend. Avenged and, I will admit, I much enjoyed the doing of those deeds. Those were not furs, they were animals.

Remember our last fishing trip? It would be me who fell in. I still think you helped with that. I wasn’t leaning that far over the side. I miss those days. Prussia, you old goat, you know its Germany now. But that mad sense of honor of yours. I always enjoyed humoring you.

It is very hard now to keep my thoughts straight. Helen, she says I left quite a few notes in the back of this journal. I’ve warned you of the Boneless? Helen assures me that I have. Good. It’s my last story. Don’t let it die.

Artillery. So much artillery. Half our trench is flattened. Captain Harver died this evening. Good man, cared for his men. I can’t see. So much dust, and they’ve fired gas again. Damn Huns. No civility. They could at least RSVP before they blow a fur in half. I mean, in the middle of tea they start a major bombardment. How crass.

Helen again. I’m sorry Mr. Von Toews but Killian’s last hours were very confusing. He kept speaking of the war, his family and other things I felt were too personal. His last words were “Babbet likes you”, then he slipped into a coma. I do not know if he was speaking to me, Illie or you. Our engines are dying, we are only a little away from Spontoon. I am packing away this book. Certainly so close to where you live this must reach you. Killian worshiped you Mr. Von Toews. He mentioned you a great deal once we were airborne. I hope I live to meet you. If I do not, please bury us together. And the mink I have in my bag. Bury Ruth with me please?

Mrs. Helen Whitehall

Like Mother... Like Daughter

by Mr. David R. Dorrycott

It was late evening, 1937 a young wolf stood waiting. “And how may I assist you Mark” Mr. Richardson asked as he entered his parlor.

Standing, hat in hand the young male wolf seemed unable to talk for a moment. “Sir” he finally managed. “You see, I have taken employment at the glass foundry. In the Accounting department. It is a very good job sir. With excellent possibilities for advancement.”

“Well congratulations son. I assume that your father is well pleased with this turn of events?”

“Oh yes sir. Quite pleased. I.. Well this is about Cindy.. Your daughter. And I.”

Setting in his favorite chair William Richardson smiled inwardly. “I am quite aware that my daughter is named Cindy son. Shouldn’t you be sitting down?“

“Oh. Yes sir” the young wolf almost collapsed back into a waiting chair. “I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean to presume...”

“Yes yes. Nerves. You are here to ask something of me?”

“Oh yes sir. You see, now that I have a job, that I have a steady income. Well sir. You see. I wanted to ask of you your daughters paw in marriage.”

“Her paw... Which one? And don’t you think she would be just a little upset about losing one of her paws?”

“Sir” the young wolf stood again so rapidly his feet almost left the floor. “I mean all of Cindy. Not just her paw.”

“I see. Well, that will take some thinking. You don’t mind if I take a day or so to discuss this. I mean, after all she is my only daughter, and you are talking about taking her away from me.” William again hid his smile, well remembering the disaster of his own first serious meeting with Carla’s father. Carla, her image came to him unbidden for a moment. “I will need to see what my daughter thinks of you as well.”

“Yes sir. I understand sir.”

“Very good.” Standing he waved towards the kitchen. “Care to join me for some coffee? My housekeeper has just brewed a rather delightful bean all the way from Hawaii.”

“Coffee? Why. Yes sir. I’d be delighted sir.”

Later, after the young man had left for his own home William’s younger sister entered the parlor, still wearing an apron. “He is a perfect match” she said, settling down into one of the less comfortable chairs. “Young. Handsome, and a job now. A wonderful catch for Cindy.”

“Young yes” William agreed. “About my age when I approached Carla’s father. But Judy, he only has that job because his father owns the glass foundry.”

“Well yes Will. But it will give him stability, help him mature. After all he has been seeing Cindy for over two years.”

William looked up at his sister, still a striking vixen at the age of forty-nine. “Why didn’t you ever marry” he asked suddenly.

Judy looked down sharply at her paws. “You know why.”

“Yes, I do. That young socially acceptable boy father and mother selected for you assaulted you after you refused him. Being from a socially higher family he quickly let it be known you threw yourself at him. After that no family would let you near one of their sons, not that you had any interest. It was Georges older sister you wanted wasn’t it. Do you take me for an idiot sis? Being rich, being of a higher social strata means nothing to us. I will speak to Cindy tonight. You...” He stood, walking over to his sister to place a paw lightly upon her shoulder. “You have done a most wonderful job raising my daughter, with me running from Washington to factories to other nations I was never home. You would have made a wonderful wife, and no better mother could have lived.”

“How could I ever repay you Will. You even moved to another side of the country, told people I was your housekeeper. Just to give me another chance.”

“I know. And when Carla died of the influenza you gave up that chance just to raise Cindy. Now she’s a grown woman, all of sixteen. We may be brother and sister. But we are also family. Let me speak to Cindy, then I will make my decision. Why don’t you go visit that librarian friend of yours tomorrow. It may rain tomorrow afternoon. I am certain she would like to have someone over to protect her. From the lightning of course. I won’t expect you home tomorrow night either.”

That night Cindy found herself sitting in her fathers office. This in itself was unusual, for though she was allowed in his office, she had always made it a point to avoid bothering him. Yet there he sat at his desk, looking at her over his folded paws. “Dinner will be late?” she asked, trying to break the ice.

“Not really” her father answered.

“Then we best hurry. Judy hates it when we are late.”

“A moment more. You see, I keep trying to imagine you in a wedding dress. Somehow... Somehow I can’t.”

“Wedding dress” Cindy Williams gasped. “Father, I’m only sixteen.”

“I married your mother when she was fifteen. She had you ten months later, a week before her sixteenth birthday.”

“But father. That was in the teens. Things were different then.”

“Not so different” he countered. “Horace Simmons came by today. He asked me for your paw in marriage.”

“HORACE!” Cindy stood, her paws at her hips as she glared at her father. “Horace is a self centered spoiled brat. I pity the woman who ever marries him. Why, he is so full of himself that he tried to kiss me last Monday. Can you believe that? I had to slap him. It was horrible. Why, if anyone had seen...”

“Please sit down Cindy. I take it then that this proposed union is not to your liking?”

“I’d rather die an old maid than let Horace Simmons touch me” the young vixen admitted. “Besides. I have plans.”

“Plans” her father repeated, his chin still planted firmly on his paws. “Your sixteen, you have no money but the little I give you. You turn your face from an excellent marriage and you have plans.” He blinked. “What is it this week. A race care driver. Submariner. Arctic Explorer or even some Jungle adventurous.”

“Point well taken father. I am a bit vapid about adventure. Still I have applied for a school and I have been accepted, subject to your approval of course.”

“My approval? Since when has that entered into your plans. Why, wasn’t it just last month that you helped correl those rustlers? As I recall events, by putting your best friend Delila into a rather dangerous situation.”

“She’s fine, just a nick to her ear and she’s proud of it. Anyway its not like they could shoot. Father. In order to attend this school I must have your written permission. It is very expensive and well, my savings hardly cover the return trip deposit, transportation there and first semester.”

“I see. So without my agreement, and money, you would not be able to attend this school. So tell me dear daughter, who seems to have found herself. Finally. What are your plans.”

“Father. I do so want to be an explorer. I always have, you know that. But today the best explorers use aircraft. I hardly know what an airplane looks like, trapped up here in Oregon. I’ve taken all the science courses I have been allowed too, but there are limits to what our local schools teach and many courses are restricted to boys only. This school teaches almost everything I need, and the local High School carries courses Burns High School won’t. And they are all open to women.”

Finally moving William Richardson lowered his paws. Under his not too considerable weight his office chair creaked. “Is this that Songmark school you spoke of?”

“Yes father.”

“And the local school?”

“Spontoon Island Technical High School father. They have a new teacher, an American. She can teach all the sciences I’m interested in. Even Archeology. And she tutors if she accepts you. We have exchanged several letters already.”

“I see. Well dear. I’ve done some investigations of my own. You realize that only fourteen girls are accepted each year? That this year they had nearly thirty girls apply, plus a large contingent of that Spanish school that had to close down?”

“No sir.”

“Well dear, they did. Which nationality did you select.”

“Canadian Father. I have until I am eighteen to decide wither I am Canadian or American after all.”

“Yes, you do. I do so hope that you choose American, it would be such a problem having to travel to Canada just to see my daughter. Especially at Christmass time. Yes Cindy. I think I will let you attend this Songmark, but not for the reasons you think I am. Now, I have some serious news for you. Supper is ready. Shall we eat?” He stood, taking his daughters paw in his own. “I think I will tell young Simmons that you have gone abroad for higher education. Though not exactly where.”

“He will think France” his daughter warned. “He thinks only France has any school that are worthy of women attending.”

“Then I believe that we shall let him believe this.”

One afternoon in 1957 Rina Blackwolf sat in her fathers office, her booted feet propped up on his desk in a way that might have been taken as brazen, except she was after all his daughter. “Any word from mum?” she asked hopefully.

“Nothing. But you know your mother” the older Blackwolf admitted. “Cindy will send a telegram when she darn well feels like it. Probably right after she gets rescued from some deserted island, or walks out of a jungle dragging her crew on a sledge like last time. So what brings you to my office today? Wreaked your car again?”

“Tabitha’s just fine dad. Two things brought me here really. Last night Peter asked me to marry him.”

“Peter... The one with the pickup truck?”

“No, that’s Peter Johansson. Peter Gregory. His father owns the biggest newspaper in town. The Republic?”

“Oh. That Peter. His fathers an idiot, but the boy seems to have a head on his shoulders. And you said?”

“I’ll think about it Gee dads, I’m only eighteen. Besides, Peter has a good looking head all right, darn intelligent too. But he’s getting fat. He’s lazy. Anyway I just got out of high school you know.”

Her father smiled at the thought. “Oh yes, I remember that night. Long droning voices speaking of the future, a hot muggy auditorium filled with people who would rather be anywhere else but there. Nasty business, simply nasty. So, now that you’ve done your time what next?”

“I’m going to Songmark.”

Stunned, the older fox rolled his chair backwards until it hit the wet bar behind him. “SONGMARK! Have you any idea what that costs?”

“So you’ve heard of it?”

“Heard of it. You mothers a graduate. I met her on Spontoon. Or hadn’t you noticed my accent?”

“Lately? Uh, yeah dad. Every time you get excited or mad. Every time.”

“Fine. Then you know I absolutely refuse.”

“Refuse? Really?”

Grinning the fox lifted his own feet onto his desk, plopping them down with a thud of finality. “Your mother isn’t here, so what I say goes. The answer is no.”

“Well” the young vixen sighed. “I guess that means I marry Peter.“

“Over my dead body.”

Rina grinned. “That, dear dad. Can be arranged you know. I am my mothers daughter.”

“To both your brothers lasting shame. Then they are civilized, I’m not. Bring it on, any time, any place.”

“Here, and now.”

“In the office? Your insane. I have work to do.”

“You own the company. Chickening out?”

“Fine. Five card stud. or blackjack.”

“Reddog” Rina countered.

“You are serious.”

“Spontoon has the best rocketry school available to civilians. Songmark teaches everything there is to know about aircraft and SITHS has the best science courses anyone could ask for. I want to go to the moon. Mrs. Sapohatan has accepted me upon a parents signature, so has Songmark and SITHS. It helps mother is known to them, but it didn’t give me any pluses getting in. You should see the application forms, and what I wanted meant I had to convince all three schools. I spent months on those essay questions. I’ll be there five years, three just for Songmark. Anyway, you know that I can forge yours and mothers handwriting expertly if I have too. Dad, I’m going into space. Wither you help me or I have to build a ladder. Now drag out those cards. The unmarked ones.”

“Don’t need them. I’ve been waiting for you to decide your course. I’ve been watching you when you thought no one knew, sneaking around studying the missiles we build for the Air Force. All right, dig out the forms. I’ll sign them.

“There in your upper left hand drawer. Right under the picture of mother in her purple bikini. Like the one she gave me, but with more cloth?” 

“You want ice with your whiskey” her father asked as he stood.

“Neat, just like always” his daughter answered.