“I don’t care who you are. I only care that you exit your cavity forthwith. Otherwise, you’ll get a bite on the nape.”
“We’d better do what the dear sergeant says,” Twitch said.
They descended the tree nose first, followed by the two officers. It felt like mid-day, but the fog was still thick. Slypaws sensed aggression all around her – not just from the arresting sergeant and his deputy but also from a surrounding squad of Peoples Corps. Snitches and Ne’er-do-wells, they’d been given an important role in society for the first time in their lives. They were working directly with the police. She joined the end of a line of youthful neighbours who’d done nothing but party all night and were now suspected criminals. This was unjust. She wanted to say something.
“Sly, this might be a good time not to argue. We need to behave like confused tourists who were scooped up accidentally.”
Alright. That sounded reasonable.
***
“Alright then. These three are going to be tormented. The rest are going to the School for Re-education. Now, what about the two ladies?”
“Failure to explain themselves, ma’am.”
“I see. Well, let’s sniff them out.”
Slypaws felt Twitch stiffen beside her. Twitch wouldn’t be able to handle interrogation. Already, at the sight of eight of the City’s young being led away to the back of a forbidding building, she was beginning to shake. And the Interrogator looked like she could split a walnut with her eyes.
“What’s your business in the City?”
“We’re tourists, if you please.” Slypaws looked the Interrogator in the eye and met a force like steel. An elongated nose to sniff out a traitor. Eyes pinced together to fasten on a goal. An eye wrestle. Defeated. Sly stared at her accuser’s toes. So evenly spaced. The Security Director was a Rodent who waited for an opportunity, then pounced.
“We haven’t been doing anything questionable.” Twitch’s shaky, pleading voice. “We’re just keeping our noses clean, not getting in involved in anything.”
The Interrogator broke her stare long enough to glance at poor Twitch. “Explain why you have two Revolution hats in your tree hole.”
That finished off Twitch. She began to blubber.
***
The dark place had screams baked into the walls. Smell of old tires, crankcase oil, gasoline, dust, derelict automobiles, cobwebs, stale coffee. It must be a place where Primate automobiles are sent to die. Unwanted cars that once drank bog oil put here and forgotten. She was splayed on an old wooden wall like an animal skin that Primate farmers nail to their barn doors as trophies. Twitch tied to another. There was no reason to torture Twitch – she’d tell the truth as an act of apology even without being terrorized. The Interrogator wants to use her to force me to confirm her account. The Rodent applies cruelty to obtain quick results.
“You will provide full and accurate answers to the questions. You will not hold anything back. You will talk in the end.”
“We’re ready to talk right now. We can tell you anything you need to know, can’t we Sly? Just ask us. Anything. Just ask us …”
The Interrogator turned her back on Twitch. The aim of the torment was to extinguish a raccoon’s nature. With raccoon nature out of the picture, there was no basis for hope. With hope gone, there was no reason to endure. Slypaws resolved that if she got through this, she’d be impossible to deal with for the rest of her life. Whatever doesn’t break you makes you stronger.
“You. Slypaws. Describe your relationship to the cell called the Makers.”
“I have no idea what the f— you’re talking about.”
A noise of someone climbing on metal. What was this? A motor vehicle facing her about three bounds away. She hadn’t distinguished it from the other vehicles which filled the dark space like ghosts. A security squad member had climbed the grill of the car and was squeezing through a shattered front window. Dear Hapticia, Mother of Heaven – what is going to happen?
No, not this! Headlights! They’d turned its headlights on. And the car as close as three bounds away. Twitch screamed. The blinding light seared into her skull – it would be inside her brain for the rest of her life. But worse was the fear of …
The lights went off.
“Now. Describe your relationship to the Makers.”
Defiance. White, blinding rage. She blinked trying to find a focus. The fear would go on and on and on. You can’t reason with it. You can’t give it sympathy. It would be unrelenting. Focus on that old licence plate nailed to the wall. She would endure this experience one more time, then … what? Would she be a chittering idiot like Twitch or would she just curl up and shake? It was too late; the assault had already done its damage. The fear knew her name. The worst fear a raccoon has – being run over by a Primate car. Twitch wouldn’t survive a second session. I have to give the Interrogator something.
“I have a daughter who fancies herself as a Maker. She …”
“Name, please.”
Please. The Interrogator had said please. “Her name is Touchwit …”
“Of the Island, River Clan – right?”
They had her number. No. They didn’t. She’d given her clan-family identity to the Interrogator earlier.
“Do you know the whereabouts of your daughter?”
“No. I honestly don’t.”
“You’re over here in the City to find her, is that it?”
“No. I have no reason to believe she’s even here in the city. I do not know where she is. I swam over with Twitchwhisker just to see the City.”
The Interrogator shifted her gaze to Twitch. “Is that correct?”
“That’s right. She came over with me to help me find a lodging. We’ve been exploring the City. And I wasn’t doing …”
“What about the Revolution hats?”
“They’re tourist souvenirs. We didn’t realize they meant something offensive. We’re sorry we caused you this trouble. We’ll do whatever you want.”
