FÜNF - THE DODGING GAME: EXERCISE
“Dale, are you sure this is what he prescribed?” asked Foxglove, looking/echosounding up at Dale. She and her husband were in the gym, which was above Gadget’s workshop and beside the hangar. Once again, she was disappointed by the fact that he was wearing clothes, but even more so that was wearing even *more* clothes than usual, which affected her hearing a trifle. Her mate now donned his workout suit: a yellow headband and tank top, white wristbands, and orange shorts. Why on earth he wore that was beyond her.
“Of—course!” he replied between breaths, as he ran on top of an old turntable which now served as a treadmill. “He—found out—in the check-up that—I had built up an—excess amount of—fat—for the winter, and—since we don’t—hibernate—anymore, he told me—to get rid of it— by doin’ this!” That seemed logical enough, although she had other ideas on how they both could get some exercise.
“Well, okay, Cutie, but why do you have to wear all of that when you’re exercising?” She asked this more out of curiosity than out of naughtiness. But she really did hate it when he wore clothes, especially now. The tamias didn’t flinch because the question didn’t sound naughty to him either.
“It helps us sweat—and thus burn more fat—and the headband keeps the fur—out of our eyes—and the wristbands—gather the sweat—that comes from our pads!!” Well, the pipistrell had to admit that he did have a point. “And—most important—they make us look cool, don’t they?” She looked/echosounded at him. She had to admit that he did sound cute, that, or the fact that he wore clothes simply left a lot to her imagination.
“Okay, Cutie, but are you going to take long?”
“I hope not—it’s just until—I get my fat layer—down to its—summer level.” Her eyes displayed a pleading expression,
“No, I mean, are you going to take long today?” Oh dear, she was asking that again. His ears fell back.
“Um—I might—I mean—I don’t know—look—don’t worry—when I finish—I’ll be in great shape—and—and—” He really didn’t want to say this, because it would only increase her expectancy, but there was no way around it, “I’ll—I—won’t get—uhh—tired so quickly---umm—with you!” The chiropterid’s ears perked up and she managed a naughty smile.
“Well, Cutie, I never really noticed that you were getting tired too quickly. I fact, I think you’ve done great so far! I really don’t hear how this will improve things.” The rodent had to think fast again.
“Well—just think—I’ll be in better shape—than before!! Less tired—means—um—more time—uh—for more fun—I guess!” The pipistrell smiled suggestively again, and then took to the air. Moments later, she hovered next to her husband, on his left.
“Well, now that’s the best idea I’ve ever heard,” she cooed in his drooped ear, making him flinch. He almost lost his rhythm as he stumbled a trifle, but he quickly recovered. “I’ll go help Chip and Gadget with the RAS equipment they brought. And once we’re done, we’ll spend the night in each other’s company—Luceeeeeeeeeelle……” She softly kissed his left cheek. It was quick, so Dale didn’t have time to dodge it, but that didn’t keep his conditioned reflex from making him flinch away from her. This time he did trip and fall on the turntable, and centrifugal force threw him off and he smashed his back against a wall.
“DALE!!” she squealed, landing beside him. The tamias slowly brought himself to a sitting position, and upon seeing the monster in front of him, he looked away from her.
“Uhhh, it’s okay, Foxy—I—I just slipped—” He suddenly jerked away from the monster because she bent down and was about to grab him—
Foxglove froze in position as she looked/echosounded at him again, this time with downright confusion. Why didn’t he want her to help him get up? And the look on Dale’s face was one of—
Terror?
“Um, Cute Stuff, I’ll—I’ll go help Chip and Gadget now,” she stuttered, turned, and padded away.
“Hey, wait, have you talked to the bat grapevine?” he suddenly remembered, turning to her. She stopped and turned to look/echosound at him again.
“No, not yet. Chip needed more information and the approval of the Strigiform Councils. The RAS should have relayed it to him now.” Yes, the perfect excuse for her to leave!
“Well, go ask him if he has it, then.” The chiropterid looked/echosounded at him again. Did he actually *want* her out of here?
“Uh, of course,” she replied a minute later. She turned again and left him alone in the gym. Dale slowly stood, and sniffed her scent again. It reminded him a lot of the night mists, and of course, there was that unmistakable tinge that declared what her current condition was. But instead of bringing him to her, it was downright repelling him.
It scared him now.
Why was he so afraid of her?
Or was it even *her*?
It was interesting how much Foxglove managed to get done today. The other Rangers looked in awe as she helped unload, sort, and catalogue all the equipment the RAS had given them in exchange for the blueprints, prototypes, and licenses Gadget gave them. The bat lady didn’t carry extremely heavy things, but she did work non-stop, thanks to her stored energies. Dale eventually joined in, but for some reason, he seemed to be working opposite her, not together. If she was in the hangar unloading equipment, he was in Gadget’s workshop. If she was in the workshop, he was in the hangar.
Once the work was done and they all had lunch, they remained at the table, as Chip stood, lowered his ears slightly, and said,
“Guys, this is something you all should know. The RAS received information about that owl from the Strigiform Councils of New York and New Jersey. It seems that the owl, a female, and a former member of the New York Council, was expelled some time ago for trying to impose sick and twisted views concerning predators and prey. She’s been known to fight and kill owls and other predatory birds who’ve disagreed with her, but the Councils have only been able to get insanity pleas to fight against her in the higher animal courts. So far, they’ve only been able to institutionalise her, but even the mental institutions have agreed that she’s beyond help, though we as Rescue Rangers don’t know that for sure. The bottom line is that she has detached herself from all contact from her fellow predators and has nested in East Staten Island Park. In fact, she has been in that park for quite a long time now. When she has stayed put, her hunting has gone beyond that of a normal predator, and it’s now just wanton killing she’s doing, and on the occasions she has left it, she has caused heaps of problems for both predator and prey. The Councils would have let her be and let her kill all the small mammals she wanted, but last week she got into a fight—and killed two owls—one of which happened to be a member of the New Jersey Council, and the other was a candidate for the New York Council. Both Councils have removed all loyalty and protection from her, as well as her standing rank in the Official Food Chain. And in an unprecedented move, they’ve allowed the RAS, and any other small mammal rescue and animal law enforcement organisation, to defend themselves from her in any way possible, guaranteeing that there will be no retribution from their part or from any other predatory animal.” The Detective sighed for a moment, and resumed, “That very much means that we, the Rescue Rangers, have the authority, permission, and *blessing* of the New York and New Jersey Strigiform Councils to—to *kill* that owl lady—if we’re defending ourselves against her.” The Rangers hushed completely at those news. Ears were lowered where applicable. After a pregnant pause, Gadget commented coldly,
“We’re *Rescue* Rangers. Our job is to *rescue* others, not to kill them.” She very much knew first-paw the pain of death, and she wasn’t about to let it happen to oth—
“Suppose we’re rescuin’ ourselves, or another animal, from that owl lady,” said Dale, looking at her with an expression and tone of voice not seen or heard since the night of Foxglove’s kidnapping. “And the circumstances become so extreme that we have no other choice but to kill her?” The memories of what happened last May were still fresh in his mind, as well as Foxglove’s,
“Dale—”
“And what if they don’t?” retorted the Inventor. “What we *could* do is try to rescue that owl lady from herself—”
“But just gettin’ close to her would be riskin’ our lives. If she doesn’t listen to reason and attacks—”
“We subdue her and escape,” finished Gadget, now getting quite upset. Fur was bristling on both sides. “We don’t give her permanent injuries, not even if—”
“If she attacks *Chip*, and is about to swallow him?” asked the Comedian, coldly. The others quietly gasped at that question. Gadget had clearly questioned Dale’s behaviour when he rescued them from Fat Cat, and now he had thrown her argument right back at her. Flashbacks of the argument they had when Foxglove stole Gadget’s translator were running through everyone’s minds, except Foxglove’s. But now, it wasn’t clear whether this argument would end that peacefully. The mousemaid slowly put her paws on the table, and looked at the chipmunk,
“Dale,” she took a deep breath, “last May, you were under a lot of pressure. Besides being caught off-guard—just like the rest of us—you were about to get married. You had that curse over you. Everything fell on you at once and you were overwhelmed to the point of *fainting*. You weren’t—”
“Thinkin’ straight?” he challenged. “You’re sayin’ that I was so angry I was out of my mind?” On the sidelines, the bat lady’s anger was slowly being replaced by worry as she heard her husband battling her former roommate.
“Dale, your anger impaired your judgement,” shivered the murid with frustration. “You had every right to be angry and maybe those circumstances were such that they made you say what you did—”
“And if I could have killed him, I would have.” Once again, the sciurid’s face darkened as it did last May. “And if he *does* come at her again, I *will* kill him. He can’t and *won’t* be stopped by any other means.” Everyone looked/echosounded at him again. The determined face was unmistakable.
“Now, pally, you muss’ realise that these are two extremely diff’rent cases,” explained Monterey, as soothingly as he could. “If you ‘ad gone ‘n killed Fat Cat, the Carnivore ‘n Feline Councils would be all over *ye*. Fat Cat’s not the only evil feline around, ye know, ‘n ‘e ‘as plenty o’ friends ‘n ‘igh places. ‘N since *yore* not evil, ye’d ‘ave ‘is death on yer conscience for the ress’ o’ yer life, *‘n* beyond. Fat Cat can be reasoned with, well, maybe juss’ a trifle, but it still counts. ‘N ‘e’s *still* under the protection o’ ‘is own kind. Now, this owl lady ‘ere isn’t after yore wife, ‘n if she ne’er sees ‘er she’ll ne’er go after ‘er. I don’t like the idea o’ ‘er peers givin’ us their permiss’n ‘n blessin’ t’ kill ‘er if we need to, either, but if she can’t be reasoned with then we do ‘ave to protect ourselves *and* ‘er from ‘erself. But what’s moss’ important ‘ere is that *ye* can still be reasoned with.” Silence again. The chiropterid tried to extend her wing across the table to hold his paw, but he was out of her reach.
“Dale, you’re a *Rescue* Ranger,” she said, in her most soothing voice, though she was still a trifle upset herself: at herself, for what little she did to avoid the kidnapping; at Fat Cat, for the kidnapping itself; at Gadget, for this argument; and at Dale, for the attention he *wasn’t* giving her. “Do you think you can *try* to rescue that owl lady from herself?” She even raised her ears in an attempt to soothe his anger. The rodent, however, looked at his paws and thought for a long moment. Finally, he looked up and spoke,
“I’m a Rescue Ranger, and yes, rescuin’ is my job. I will do whatever I can to rescue that owl lady from herself, but I *also* have to do whatever I can to rescue *others* from her. Gadget, perhaps I may not have been thinkin’ straight in Fat Cat’s hideout, but keep this in mind: We have rescued many animals and properties from Fat Cat. We have done all we can to reason with him and make him see his errors. Last May he was about to kill you all, and he even ignored Chip’s offer to sacrifice himself for the rest—for *you*.” The Inventor’s heart stood still for a moment as she remembered that incident, forever burned into her memory. She glanced at her love for a moment, not wanting to even imagine what would have happened if Fat Cat had taken up on that offer. “If I hadn’t shown up, he would have killed every one of you, startin’ with Foxglove.” His mate’s ears drooped again, while Gadget looked down, still trying not to think of what would have happened to Chip—to the one she *knew* she loved. Dale continued, “That would have been the signin’ of his own death certificate. None of us know if he’s already passed the point of no-return, or if he hasn’t, but if he keeps it up, then his death is around the corner, and it won’t necessarily be my doin’. And, I doubt that any council will be able to stop it or take revenge afterward. He may have friends in high places, but he also has plenty of enemies there, too. As for the owl lady, the Strigiform Councils have declared that she is *already* beyond the point of no return.” He looked at his female friend again, “Gadget, I pray that we don’t have to face her under extreme circumstances, but we have to be ready if we do. And I pray that neither you nor any of us ever find ourselves under the circumstances I was under that pushed me to make the decision to kill. It’s—” his voice cracked for a moment, “it’s not a nice feelin’ at all. A lot of ugly things will need to happen to both us *and* her before we’re pushed into makin’ the Final Decision, just like they happened with me and Fat Cat——so pray that we’ll be able to stop them before we reach that point.”
“Those things will *not* happen,” declared Chip, with a stern voice, glaring at him. “Because we and the RAS are going to do all we can in order to avoid them. All animals will be warned to avoid East Staten Island Park. Tabs will be kept on that owl lady, and if she moves to another park or extends her hunting area or schedule, the same warning will go there. The best we can hope for is that the owl lady will leave the city and return to a feral condition in the forest. There, without the shelter of the city, she’ll have plenty to worry about for her own survival. And if she dies, it will not be by our paw. We will now find Otis and send the warning to Staten Island. Dale,” he put his now bandage-free paw on his friend’s shoulder, “we live and learn. We learned a lot about ourselves last May, and we learned what circumstances need to materialise before we’re forced to make the Final Decision. Thank God the Final Circumstance did *not* happen and you did *not* make the Final Decision. Dale, I know it was horrible for you, but please, learn from what happened, and put it behind you. With what we learned, we’ll make sure *none* of us goes through what you did, *ever*.” He gave Dale a very pleading look, pleading him to be the fun-loving Comedian everyone knew. “Dale, you’re *not* evil. Don’t do this to yourself.” Dale looked at him for a moment, relaxed his ears, and sighed,
“Very well. But let’s all pray that your plan works. ‘Cause if it doesn’t, then both we *and* the RAS better have a back-up plan—*and* an explanation to the victims’ families.” With that, he got up, and padded back to the gym. The Rangers looked/echosounded stunned at him as he returned upstairs. Chip’s heart bled for his best friend. Dale had once been faced with the choice to kill, and now, that option was once again open. Certainly old wounds had been opened today, and now they needed time to close again. So to begin the closing of wounds, Chip and the others would need to prevent the Final Decision from materialising. He turned to his best friend’s wife and said,
“Foxy—I—I guess you should send the warning to Otis and the other bats now.” He then told her the basics of the message.
“S-sure, Chip,” she replied, stunned, upset, and confused, as she left the table. She, too, felt pain for Dale, and even more because last time, *she* was the cause of Dale’s pain; it had been *her* fault for being part of what made him seriously consider the option to kill. Her wounds were open as well, but perhaps giving everyone a chance to cool off, and maybe having a little intimacy with just her and Dale, would be enough to put this new option out of everyone’s mind. As she padded outside and prepared to find her friend, Chip decided to go to his room to find a book to get his mind off this topic. He was interrupted by the most beautiful mousemaid on the planet, who suddenly stood and hugged him as tight as she could, almost as if she was afraid he was some sort of dream that could vanish in an instant. Naturally, his brain did a few loops, as did his heart, but logic eventually found its rightful place,
“G-Gadget? What’s this for?” Her beautiful blue eyes met his beautiful dark-brown ones,
“It’s for you still being *here*—for being here *with* us—with—with *me*…” No more words were needed, and she just placed her head on his shoulder, letting her nose fill itself with his scent. The chipmunk, understanding, returned the embrace.
Since the unloading and cataloguing took quite some time, lunch was a trifle late today, and the discussion took plenty of time too, so when Foxglove looked/echosounded at the sky she saw that sunset was starting. Otis and the other bats should be up now. So, she took to the air, hovered, and faced north,
“This is Foxglove Yegoleh of Oakmont, calling the Ultrasound Network with a Class One message from the Rescue Rangers. Any bats in the vicinity, please respond.” She had to speak loud and high, but that was no problem for her or bats in general. In fact, the USN was what helped gather every able-bodied bat in New York last May to help her and the Rangers rescue her from Fat Cat. She allowed ten seconds for her message to reach the nearest buildings and echo back to her, but with no response. The chiropterid faced south and called again, “This is Foxglove Yegoleh of Oakmont, calling the Ultrasound Network. This is a Class One message from the Rescue Rangers with immediate relay needed for Staten Island. Does anyone copy?” Still no reply. She faced east, “Any bats in the area, this is a Class One message from the Rescue Rangers. It needs immediate relay to Staten Island. Is there anyone available?” Silence. With a sigh, the verspetilionid faced west, “This is an urgent USN Class One request. Any bat, this is a Class One message!” Maybe it was still a trifle too early. She decided to get some exercise herself and flew around the tree for about thirty minutes, eating a few insects now and then. After that, she didn’t feel exhausted, due to her condition. Maybe a trifle wound down, but she wasn’t panting. Furthermore, she wasn’t that upset or angry anymore about that discussion at the table now, and was even looking forward to returning to Dale’s side. Still, the sun had set so Otis and the other bats should already be up now—
And she was a bat.
A *female* bat.
In the middle of *autumn*.
And while she may be married, as the ring around her thumbclaw proclaimed, that may not necessarily be enough to deter any male bat who might have questionable intentions. Why, any male bat could take one whiff from her from across the park and fly straight to her and grab her and begin to kiss her and—
She shuddered as she threw that thought out of her head. If she was to have fantasies of that sort, she preferred them to be of her husband; not of any male bat who may happen to be flying around with the wind blowing through his fur accentuating his rippling pectoral muscles and returning a sonar echo that would—
She shuddered again.
She faced north and tried again, hoping that a female bat would hear her ultrasound call.
“This is Foxglove Yegoleh of Oakmont, calling the Ultrasound Network with a Class One message from the Rescue Rangers. It needs immediate relay to Staten Island. Any bats in the vicinity, please respond.” Ten seconds later there was still no response except her own echo. The pipistrell turned south and—
“Foxglove? This is Otis, responding to the USN Class One message request! What’s going on?” She cringed for a moment when she heard Otis’ deep and soft voice, which for some reason tingled in her ears, but she quickly returned to the matter at wing. Judging from his wave amplitude, he was probably three blocks from the park, and he wasn’t downwind, thank God.
“Otis? This is Foxglove. Chip requested sending an immediate message to Staten Island. Is there a relay available?”
“Hang on, let me check.” She waited several seconds, and then Otis added, “I’m setting up a relay right now. Any place in Staten Island in particular?” Well, Chip said East Staten Island Park, but it would be better to alert all of them.
“All parks and their immediate vicinities, with priority to East Staten Island Park. This is a message from the Rescue Rangers with backing from the Rescue Aid Society and the Strigiform Councils of New York and New Jersey. Class One.”
“Wow, it must be really important. The USN is clearing a path for it right now and silencing all other traffic. You can start the message on my mark—” He waited until he heard the final “ready”, and he repeated, “Ready!” to her. Foxglove cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and began,
“This is a Class One message from the Rescue Rangers and the Rescue Aid Society to all animals in all parks of Staten Island, with priority to all nocturnal animals in East Staten Island Park. All avian, mammal, and reptilian traffic is to be diverted from East Staten Island Park and its surrounding area due to a deranged predator in said park. The Rescue Rangers, the Rescue Aid Society, and the Strigiform Councils of the States of New York and New Jersey have received and acknowledged reports of a female owl engaging in aggressive behaviour that is beyond all predatory instinct. All traffic is to be diverted from the air, trees, and surface of East Staten Island Park starting from one hour before sunset to one hour after sunrise. Any animal passing through the park between that period will do so under his/her own risk of being caught and eaten. Warnings are to be posted in all accesses to the park. There will be no armed escorts through it of any kind unless it’s impossible for the park to be circumvented. All underground traffic must pass non-stop under the park. All other animals must be notified of this and have their paths corrected accordingly. If the owl lady attacks outside her present hunting range or hours, or if she moves to another nesting site, contact the Rescue Rangers or the Rescue Aid Society immediately. End Class One Message. Sender ID: Rescue Rangers c/o Rescue Aid Society, with approval of the Strigiform Council of the State of New York and the Strigiform Council of the State of New Jersey.”
The bat lady waited a moment, and then she heard Otis reply,
“Okay, the message is being relayed through all the USN in Staten Island. That’s very serious stuff, isn’t it?”
“That’s why it’s a Class One Message, Otis. We’re hoping that the owl lady leaves the city.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll keep an ear out for it. Say, how’s Dale?”
“Oh, he’s—his usual self,” she lied, but she wasn’t about to pour her heart out to Otis.
“Well, I’m glad to hear you two are happy together. Maybe you can bring him along to the Wake-Up Festival next spring?” The Acoustics Engineer cringed again. Right now she wasn’t sure what the condition of her marriage was—
Or what the situation would be next spring. In fact, she wasn’t sure if she would rather stay out here and keep talking to Otis while hunting for insects and just listen to his deep soft voice—
Shudder.
“Um—I’ll—I’ll talk to him about it. Thanks for the help, Otis.”
“Hey, anything for the Rescue Rangers and the most admired bat lady in all of the Chiroptera Order! Have a good hunt, Mrs. Oakmont!” Otis signed off. His reminders of her marital status got her fantasies straightened out, for now. She hunted insects for a while, until she heard other bats approaching, at which she made a beeline for home.
Foxglove waited patiently in the bed, or as patient as she could get, considering her condition. It was actually just waiting, without the patient part, mainly because she couldn’t get comfortable, either by sitting down, lying down, or hanging from her perch above the bed. She already had her shower for today, and while it had been a busy day, her body begged for more action.
And Dale was still in the gym.
Why was he all hyperactive all of the sudden? Didn’t he know he could burn plenty of calories with *her*? Then again, she was hoping that all the exercise had calmed him down. His reactions at lunch very much scared her. The thought of actually *wanting* to kill another living being, and *wanton* killing at that, in a non-predatory fashion, was bad enough, but killing someone and just leaving him/her to rot on the cement or pavement as an act of *hatred*…
She thought that Dale had already put behind him the night in Fat Cat’s hideout. She herself had pushed it as far back in her mind as she could, and concentrated on her relationship with him, and even more now when her Fall Fever was at its peak. Perhaps that was what Dale needed to put that experience behind him once and for all. Tonight, they would have a little heart-to-heart talk about what was still bothering him, she would then give him a few suggestions, and then they would have a long night of love to forget all their troubles.
What the Purgatory was taking him so long?
She got up and was going to go to the gym and drag him to the bedroom—
The door opened and Dale entered. Then he closed the door again. The bat lady smiled and padded over to him and was about to take him to the bathroom—
“Lucee—”
She stopped when she saw, heard, and smelled the chipmunk with the Hawaiian shirt.
“Cutie, did you shower already?” she asked, quite surprised, perking up her ears, and an eyebrow. After a few seconds, the tamias mumbled, as he padded to his drawer and dropped the sweaty workout clothes he was holding,
“Mmm? Oh, yeah, I did.” He removed his shirt, opened a drawer, and pulled something out.
“Dale, why didn’t you shower here?!” asked the pipistrell, nearly demanding.
“‘Cause the other bathroom was closer and I was really tired.” Well, the chiropterid couldn’t argue with that kind of logic. But she nearly did start arguing with him when he yawned and started putting on his nightshirt.
“Um, Cute Stuff, are you still upset about—about what we talked about after lunch?” A few more seconds, and the rodent sighed,
“Well—no. It’s just that it reminded me of—of what happened—and *nearly* happened to you————to *all* of us—” He trailed off as he laid on the bed and pulled the covers over him, away from her. “I wouldn’t wish that on—on—well, right now I don’t know if Fat Cat should feel what I felt that night, just to make him see what he’s causin’. But we all have to realise that not every bad guy can be reasoned with. Some have lost all their morals, and there’s no other way of dealin’ with them—if they will stop at nothin’ to kill someone. I really don’t want it to happen, but there’s a chance that—yaaaaawn—that either the RAS or us will face somethin’ quite extreme. I hope Chip’s plan works, for our sake, and the owl lady’s.” Foxglove climbed on the bed and snuggled behind him. “And I wish that somethin’ like that had been done to Fat Cat a long time ago—” He trailed off while his wife continued,
“Cutie, you don’t have to worry. Chip discussed that plan with the RAS as well, and we all are going to do what we can to rescue that owl lady from herself. But now, Dale, I just want you to stop thinking about that, and think about kinder, gentler things—like me!” She giggled provocatively. “And on the kinder, gentler things that you can do with a kinder, gentler one like myself! And then, we’ll move on from kinder and gentler to the REALLY—” The kinder, gentler, and shallow breathing picked up by her ears indicated that her mate was now out like a light.
She actually growled this time before turning out the light, settling down and eventually joining his slumber.
Dale was once again jogging on the turntable, but at a more leisurely pace. And again, his wife was standing next to the turntable.
And she was getting desperate.
“Dale?” she asked, on the verge of tears, and with low ears and tail.
“Yes, Dear?” he asked, not noticing that.
“Dale, I—I know this is what the doctor ordered, but do you have to do it all day?”
“Of course not! I’ll stop the moment we get a new case!” Ouch.
“But—Dale, what about us?” He glanced at her, raising an eyebrow.
“What about us?”
“Well, Dale, I know that many things have got in the way of our—our relationship, and I know that they’re not anyone’s fault! I know that they come with the territory of being a Rescue Ranger and I know we all have to make sacrifices—” She trailed off as she sought for a way to break this to him gently.
“I know. But that’s—”
“Cute Stuff, I’m lonely!” The tamias would have stiffened if he hadn’t been running, so he only managed to flatten his ears. He knew exactly what she was talking about. He quickly tried to divert from that topic,
“L-lonely? But Foxy, we’ve never left you alone since you came back! How can you be lonely?” The pipistrell took to the air and hovered in front of him, making him flinch and turn slightly away so he wouldn’t look at her eyes.
“Dale, I—we need to spend more time together—time alone—just the two of us—” His sweat wasn’t necessarily being caused by the exercise.
“Uh—well, we’re alone now, aren’t we?” he stuttered, hoping to get her mind off intimate things.
“Dale—I don’t want to keep you in the bedroom 24/7, but it’s been nearly two weeks since—” Suddenly he raised an index digit and exclaimed,
“Hey, Foxy, I’ve got an idea!!” The chipmunk was saved by his own randomness.
“Yes, Cutie??” the bat lady squealed, with an insane grin on her face, ears up and tail in a blur.
“If you say you’ve been feelin’ lonely—”
“Yeeeesss?” Her tail swished like never before.
“Then why don’t you work out with me in the gym?” Her ears and tail drooped. “If I’m goin’ to be in better shape and won’t get tired so easily, then—then you’d just better shape up if you don’t want me to wear you out!” The sciurid couldn’t believe he had just said that, but only his ears and tail showed that.
“What?!” shrieked the verspetilionid, somewhat angered, bristling, and stiffening her features. “Are you saying you can keep things going longer than I can even with my condition?” Oh dear, he had just challenged her. But maybe, that’s what she needed to keep her mind off her Fall Fever. He only needed to channel that challenge. He stiffened his ears back at her and replied,
“Um—I sure can!” She frowned and flashed her teeth,
“Okay, that’s it, chipmunk, you get down off that record player and you march with me right to the bed and then we’ll see who lasts longer!” Oh no. Divert, divert, divert!
“B-but—Foxy, you haven’t started workin’ out yet! I’d be havin’ an—an—unfair advantage over you! And really, Foxy, I don’t wanna wear you out. And you don’t have to prove anythin’ to me—”
*Unfair advantage?????*
Her expression would have been similar if he had asked her if she could fly.
“Dale, what makes you even THINK that? All this time I thought I was wearing YOU out!” Even with his inexplicable phobia, that was just plain insulting to him. But he kept going,
“Well, that’s why I’m here now! If you say you can last longer than I can, don’t you think I’d wanna do somethin’ so I can keep up with you?” Foxglove wasn’t sure where this argument was headed, or what the point of it was.
“Well, of *course* I want you to keep up with me!” The male quickly put on a confused look on his face.
“But you just said you will last longer than I will!” The female’s confused expression was genuine,
“Uh—I did?”
“Look, Foxy, why don’t you just work out with me—I mean—exercise with me?” The rodent almost panicked at the way that request sounded. “I mean—do exercises with me—I mean—you doin’ exercises by yourself—I mean—doin’ them here—but with me—“ She loved the way he sounded when he stuttered, as well as the way his heart fluttered when he got nervous. And Dale knew that he had just better finish clearing up his request before Foxglove grabbed him and sequestered him to the bedroom. “I mean—not with me—in the same spot—er—machine—er—just do them at the same time—here—uh—like—I would run—and—you would lift weights—or somethin’—” Her nose was too close to his own. And her smile (though more likely her teeth) was causing him extreme fright. “And—then, we’ll see who lasts longer!” he finished, much to his relief. The chiropterid wasn’t really paying attention to what he was saying as much as just hearing him talk, but that last suggestion snapped her out of her libido for a moment.
“But Dale, how can I work out? I can’t lift those weights over my head, and I can’t run on the turntable like you. Maybe I could do some stretching and leg exercises, but the workout I really need can only be done with—oh, I don’t know, a wind tunnel!”
“Wind tunnel?” Both turned and saw/heard Gadget enter the gym. Dale was relieved once more, while Foxglove was about to ask her to get lost, as politely as possible, of course.
“Oh, hi, Gadget!” he said, smiling. “Come to work out with us?”
“Well, no, I came here to see what equipment might need improvement thanks to the new stuff the RAS gave us when I heard Foxy mention a wind tunnel?” Her ears were very perked up, no to mention her voice. The bat lady had to get rid of the mousemaid quickly.
“Sure, Gadget. Dale suggested that I work out with him here, but I really can’t do much exercising unless there’s a wind tunnel here, which there isn’t. But why don’t you go with Chip and do some other stuff, like inventing things in your workshop?” Gadget didn’t listen to her suggestion because her brain was in the middle of very complex calculations brought by the idea of a wind tunnel. She looked to the ceiling, to a window, to another window directly opposite of it, then she thought of several motors that they had brought, and then of a human-sized table fan—
“Gadget?” asked the chiropterid, for the third time. With a spark in her eye, the murid suddenly said,
“I’ll be right back. Don’t go away!” And she ran out of the gym. The couple looked/echosounded at each other for a moment, and then shrugged, dismissing Gadget’s behaviour as normal.
“Now, Foxy, as I was sayin’, there are some exercises you could do here. Um—” The chipmunk thought long and hard for a bit. “Hey, I know! If you can’t lift weights above your head, then just try lifting them with your foot-paws!”
“Huh?”
“Sure! Remember when we first met? I was a bit heavy for you, wasn’t I?” The bat lady giggled when she remembered that wonderfully fateful night,
“At first. But with all the work we’ve done so far, I think I can handle your weight with no problem now.”
“Sure, but for how long? What you need is strength *and* endurance, like a marathon runner. Now, what you can do is grab that eight-ounce weight over there and see how long you can keep airborne with it!” The verspetilionid turned to look/echosound at the object in question, which was near the wall. She swooped over it, grabbed it, and began to hover. It certainly wasn’t her maximum payload, but it took effort to stay airborne. After some ten minutes, she quickly landed, gasping, ears down. The sciurid saw this, and he explained,
“That was very good! Now, quickly, grab the four-ounce weight and do the same thing!” His wife did as he told her, and she was airborne for another ten minutes. This time she landed hard, and was gasping even more.
“Looks and sounds like someone’s out of shape here,” he teased. “But don’t worry, Foxy. Just take a little rest and do some stretching, and then try again with the eight-ounce weight. In a little while, you’ll see that you’ll be able to last longer and longer and with heavier weights!” The chiropterid padded onto a thin sponge (which served as an exercise mat), laid down, and began doing a series of stretches, while she pondered on yet another change in her rodent: After the night of the kidnapping, Dale’s shift in focus between seriousness and comedy included regular sessions here in the gym. In time, he learned several training techniques that benefited the whole team. It made him more energetic, which was vital for *her* this time of the year, but now, it seemed as if he was obsessed by exercise, almost as if he was trying to wear himself out every d—
Chip, Monterey, Zipper, and Gadget entered the gym. Foxglove turned to them and growled in ultrasound. And Dale noticed that Gadget had a large set of blueprints.
“Foxy,” said the mousemaid, “congratulations. We’re going to build you your very own wind tunnel! Well, Zipper can use it too, of course, but that would mean different settings but of course that shouldn’t be a problem with this design—”
“A wind tunnel?” asked the bat lady, standing and padding up to her. “Gadget, you don’t need to build one! I really don’t need it since Dale gave me a workout routine I can handle and it must be very difficult to build and I don’t want you to go through all that trouble for me and—”
“Oh, it won’t be any problem at all! Well, we all will have to work together to build it, but all the blueprints are done and we can build it right here in the gym right now! And the best part is that we can start putting to good use some of the material the RAS gave us! Isn’t that wonderful??” Chip loved the way her eyes sparkled when she was hit with a great idea.
“It sure is!!!” replied Dale, jumping off the turntable and running to the group. “Let’s get started!!!”
The bat lady wept inwardly at this torture.
It was a group effort, so Foxglove had no choice but to join in. Her previous workout had taken a lot of energy, but again, her condition helped her recover quickly. It took all day to build the wind tunnel, and part of the night, but it was finished. It wasn’t as much a tunnel as it was an air passage, though. On one side of the gym, near the very high ceiling, where the window used to be, were the blades of a human table fan. The motor had been replaced with a much more powerful one, which was attached to a digital paw-held control on the floor. On the opposite window, the fan grill was fastened over it. Outside, the air intake/exhaust ports were pointed up and camouflaged with bark and brown and black paint. The exhaust port was fitted with several pieces of metal sheets that would act as “speed bumps”, allowing the air to slow down and leave the tree without making turbulence outside. The motor was even fitted with a noise reduction devise that would help muffle the sound. Finally, at 11:34 p.m., Gadget picked up the control, gave it to Chip, and said,
“Chip, normally I like being the first person to turn things on, but this time, I—I want—I want *you* to do it.” Chip’s heart raced when he saw her smiling, and blushing. She was letting him take another step closer to her by letting him do something that brought *her* great happiness. He gave her a quick hug and a very light kiss on her cheek, replying,
“Thanks, Gadget. I know how much this means to you, and—it means the world to me that you let me do this.” With one arm over her shoulders, all looked/echosounded up at the fan, and he pressed the power button.
And with barely a whisper, the fan came to life. The streamers that were attached to it stirred as the wind blew them to a horizontal position. Chip and Gadget looked down and saw the readout in the control:
15 mph
“Hey, it worked,” said Chip, happily.
“It worked,” repeated the Inventor, somewhat stunned. “It worked.” Then suddenly, her ears perked up and she squeaked, “It works!! IT WORKS PERFECTLY!!” Without thinking, she was suddenly in a very close embrace with Chip. Everyone else clapped and cheered at her triumph, even Foxglove, because it wasn’t every day when an invention of hers worked flawlessly at the first attempt. Then again, with Chip around, it seemed her inventions were getting more and more reliable. After a while, the murid stepped back to look into the sciurid’s eyes.
And the Detective fell into her eyes, which were glistening with tears of joy.
“Congratulations, dear Gadget,” he whispered. They moved closer, and kissed lightly, after which they embraced again.
“Isn’t that romantic, Cute Stuff?” asked Foxglove, while wrapping her wings around her husband.
“Huh? What?” A monster was trying to pin down his arms again, and he nearly jumped when he looked at her eyes. “Oh, yeah, it’s romantic. Very——yaaaaaaaaaawwwwnnnn——romantic——but it’s gettin’ late. Foxy, Zipper, you can try it out in the mornin’. Let’s get some rest, guys.” Without another word, the tamias detached himself from his wife and padded out of the gym. Stunned for a moment again, the pipistrell just looked/echosounded at him, stiffened her features, and then angrily stomped after him.
“I guess we do that, then,” shrugged Zipper, and the rest retired to their rooms.
But not without everyone getting suspicions that maybe something was amiss in Dale and Foxglove’s relationship.
Foxglove was quite determined to get some action tonight. But as she turned to lock the door, a yawn overcame her, a very powerful yawn. *Whoa, I guess I actually wore myself down today!* And she wasn’t the only one. She turned and saw/heard Dale lying perfectly still on the bed, out like a light once more. And her eyes and ears were beginning to close, and her throat was getting hoarse.
*Okay, Cute Stuff. You win again today. But you’d just *better* get yourself in shape now, ‘cause with that wind tunnel to get _me_ in shape, we’re going to have LONG nights for now on!* The chipmunk, meanwhile, before he fell asleep, thought that he finally got the right idea for keeping her away from him. Now, with her working out with the wind tunnel, she would be as exhausted as he was at the end of the day, with no romantic desires, or energy, remaining. And he would have time to come up with other ideas in case this plan backfired.
Which is not to say that during this time the bat lady was getting a few ideas of her own to get some action one way or another.
Now, which one of them should she try first?