#in which i kept forgetting what hotwiring actually means so came up with this

[loveinhawkins]

was this written to solve my own inconsistencies because i keep forgetting Eddie literally hotwired the RV, they don’t need keys, why do you keep mentioning keys, you fool? maybe. do i also think they’d be this stupid? yes. ❤️

“Oh, son of a bitch,” Dustin says, midway to The War Zone.

Steve, who is used to this sort of outburst for things as mild as Dustin forgetting just one out of the eight pens on his person, does not react.

However Eddie—Hellfire rants aside—is not quite as familiar yet. He jumps practically a foot in the air.

“Jesus Christ, what now?”

All Dustin offers by way of explanation is an accusatory, “You,” pointing his finger right in Eddie’s face.

And then Eddie sees what’s dangling from said finger.

“… Oh.”

“What?” Steve says, glancing at the rearview mirror; Eddie quickly blocks Dustin from view, goes right up on his tiptoes and spreads his arms wide, curses when Dustin throws the keys—

—to Max, who catches them one-handed, who gives Eddie a grin that’s not so much pitying as it is evil, and then she—

—throws them to Lucas, and he somehow gets the metal ring to land on his finger, like he’s in a movie, and he twirls them round and round until Max snorts, and he grins like that had been his aim all along.

“Sinclair,” Eddie says, “I am begging you.”

“I’m not hearing much about what’s in it for him,” Erica says.

Aha! Eddie zeroes in on Erica and blocks her from Lucas, like a very unjust game of Keep Away.

“Dude,” Lucas says, affronted, “that’s not fair.”

Eddie has the decency to look a bit ashamed. Not too ashamed to stop because he is a pathetic man, but at least Steve still hasn’t noticed the—

“Lucas,” Erica says, in the aggrieved tones of a sister who’s despaired at him many, many times. “You’re on the basketball team. Just do a pass fake, nerd.”

Lucas feigns to the left, and Eddie falls for it—but, in what he’s sure is a completely unsportsmanlike move, he uses his height to his advantage, jumps…

And drops the keys with a clatter.

Steve must instantly recognise the sound for what it is, because he starts to cackle.

Eddie’s only saving grace is that Steve is driving, so at least he can’t see—

“Eddie’s going, like, super red in the face right now,” Dustin narrates helpfully.

“Scarlet,” Lucas says.

“Vermillion,” Robin pipes up from the floor.

“Ooh,” Dustin, Lucas, and Max chorus, impressed. Jesus Christ, they almost harmonize.

“Yeah, Eddie,” Steve says dryly, “you fucking moron. How did you miss those, it’s not like you had literally anything else on your mind.”

“You’re a real gentleman, Harrington, anyone ever told you that?” Eddie says weakly.

“Maybe once or twice,” Steve says, drawing it out teasingly, as if he means not often enough.

“Well, at least we got on the road,” Nancy says. Her voice quivers like she’s trying not to laugh—perched on the table, eyes shining with amusement. “And it did look pretty cool, Eddie.”

Eddie thinks this is an incredibly generous assessment, considering his main thought while breaking into the RV had been don’t get stuck in the window, Jesus Christ.

And then… like, he didn’t expect Steve to actually come up and watch him hotwire the damn thing, like, with rapt attention, so close that Eddie was kinda concerned he’d electrocute himself instead. Honestly, it was a miracle he got the engine started.

“That’s sweet of you, Wheeler, but I’m self-aware.”

“Since when?” Erica says.

Underneath everyone’s laughter, Steve grins and says, “Hey, don’t worry, man.” He catches Eddie’s eye in the rearview mirror, winks. “It was an educational experience.”

“Oh, wow, your face is even redder.”

“Henderson, I’m gonna put those goddamn keys so far up your ass.”

[shieldofgod]

The dogs on main street howl

I've done my best to live the right way I get up every morning and go to work each day But your eyes go blind and your blood runs cold Sometimes I feel so weak I just want to explode Explode and tear this old town apart Take a knife and cut this pain from my heart Find somebody itching for something to start The dogs on main street howl 'Cause they understand If I could reach one moment into my hands Mister, I ain't a boy, no, I'm a man And I believe in a promised land. - Bruce Springsteen; The Promised Land

Before

The first time he took pills, it was right after losing Jimmy.

The decision to let the man’s soul go had been a wrenchingly hard one, but it was one they had arrived at together. Amelia and Claire were both dead, caught in the crossfire of societal breakdown.  Castiel couldn’t fly, couldn’t heal, couldn’t smite; he could get by on less food and water, but he was otherwise barely better than mortal.  He was stuck sleeping, though, which was increasingly difficult for the way the world was falling apart.

Even for all of that, Jimmy had been willing to stay; had been willing to remain as a constant companion for the angel he’d tamed, had become entwined with, and if Castiel had loved him any less, he might have even begged Jimmy to stay.

It was one of Castiel’s last acts as an angel, unanchoring Jimmy’s soul.  No part of him wanted to.  He had all but lost Dean to Dean’s despair, Sam was missing entirely, Bobby was stuck at the salvage yard he had turned into a fortress; Jimmy was the only person left who openly loved him and who he was allowed to love back.

But it was that same love, fierce and abiding, that gave him the strength to say goodbye and to let go.

I’ll find you again someday.  Less a lie, more a naive declaration of intention.  I love you, and that the deepest manner of truth.

Back then, Castiel still thought he might someday be able to go home.

The emptiness left in that mortal body was so painful that he curled over his own knees on the ratty motel carpet and sobbed, fists in Jimmy’s hair and forehead to the floor, supplication to a Father who had abandoned him.

Still, it wasn’t that which drove him into the chemical relief of narcotics.  That came a couple days later: Grief-sick and stumbling, he and Dean had ended up having to flee a crowd of freshly infected.  They had, but Castiel had fallen and broken two ribs landing against an old hand railing.  Dean had come back for him, got him out of there alive, but the physical pain on top of the emotional pain had proven too much for the angel. Once they found a car they could hotwire -- the Impala sitting safe at Bobby’s -- he had fallen apart all over again sitting in the passenger seat, helpless tears for hours.

Dean wasn’t totally gone yet; mostly, but not totally.  Not completely impervious to the devastation of those he cared for.  He’d fished a bottle of hydrocodone out of his duffel, handed it over.  “Take one, it’ll help,” he’d said, and Castiel had not thought anything of it.  And it did help.  And he kept the bottle, because broken ribs are agony and his heart was shattered and his wings ached so badly that he could feel it through his vessel’s shoulders, and while the pills didn’t fix that, they made him care less about it.

Dean didn’t encourage him.  But Dean didn’t need to. The pills kept Castiel functional, so he sought out more.  Experimented with different kinds he found, too.

Lost his wings.  Experimented more.  Found different things that made everything bearable; every loss, every retreat, everything.  The constant anxiety.  Watching Dean become a bitter, jaded shell.  Watching the National Guard mow down people indiscriminately.  Horror after horror, but there were ways to numb it, in tablet or capsule form; in drugs, then sex, then whatever else felt even a little good.

Mostly, they made Castiel not care so much.

What was left after all of that was no longer of God; was only Cas.

Down the rabbit hole, go ask Alice.

Now

It wasn’t the first time Cas had tried to cold turkey.

Neither of his prior attempts had lasted longer than a day.

Still, this attempt hadn’t started off too badly.  After the insanely long mission yesterday, he actually had fallen asleep for a handful of hours, still buoyed by what was left in his system and plain old exhaustion.  It wasn’t the most restful sleep, since he hadn’t taken his usual bedtime cocktail, but it was better than nothing.  He dreamed, as he usually did when there was nothing to blunt it, brightly -- of flight, of freedom -- and as ever, it was bittersweet, more bitter than sweet.  Always the past, never of a future.

It didn’t last, though.  It couldn’t.

The first thing was the shivering; feeling too hot and too cold at once.  It woke him up and he spent a couple minutes wildly disoriented, forgetting where he was and why, before the memory returned that he’d actually asked for this.

Once Cas remembered that, he settled again.  But he couldn’t sleep; his stomach was unsettled, and this mortal skin he’d been wearing for years felt wrong, felt like it didn’t really belong to him (it didn’t, it belonged to Jimmy, but he made it his own and now he remembered it wasn’t actually his) and--

It still wasn’t too bad, though.  If he could make it through a day, he’d beat his own prior records.  All two of them.

He made himself get up, feeling sore and achy, and got himself one of his bottles of water.  The shed was cold, but that also meant the water was deliciously so; it helped the queasiness to sip slow at it, let it trickle down his throat.  Then he wrapped himself up in his sleeping bag and just rested in the corner, waiting it out.

Be still.

Old angelic commands; the words of their generals before battle.  The words of their medics, when being cared for after a wounding.  Like all Enochian, layered in meanings: Not just the action of being still.  But the state of being still.  It meant not moving, but it also meant being at peace with the state of not moving.  Acceptance.  They gave it to themselves, too.

It surfaced now, like an old ghost from the grave.  Cas gave it to himself without thought, though he had never been quite as good at obeying it as his brethren.

He wondered what else was going to crawl out of the ground before this was over.

[thinkingagain]

“Look at that Beast, walking around like it owns everything.” Scruffy bared his teeth, glaring.

Sir Sleepy of the Bunny Nest (A Novel of the Revolution) Book One: Conquest Chapter 19

When the first splotches of sun sparkled through the trees, Sir Sleepy of the Bunny Nest roused himself from his comfortable spot among leaves and brush. His sleep had been brief but restful. Sweet aromas from the foliage had replaced the odors which had smothered him in the Beast car. He looked around at the other rabbits, also waking and stretching. He was a bunny among bunny friends, waking early for the day’s adventure. “A fine morning, is it not?” he said to Scruffy, who was rolling around in some dew.

“I’ve known worse,” Scruffy said.

“On a morning like this,” the Sir said, his fur tingling, “I feel my Demesne may indeed come to exist, and sooner than I think.”

“Can’t say I know.” Scruffy rubbed a shoulder vigorously against the grass. “I wish you well with it, whatever happens. Me, I don’t have your capacity for dreaming big. The world right in front of me is world enough for me. Still, whether you get your Demesne or not, and whether or not there’s any home for me there that I can stand, I’ll fight on your side.”

“Thank you. I respect your skepticism, believe me, given your experiences...” The Sir stopped. The grinding metallic hum of a Beast vehicle had separated itself from the low hum of vehicles on the main Beast track. It was pulling into the area where the rabbits had parked the Buick.

Lucky and Jack came back through the trees towards them. “Police Beast,” Lucky said.

“I’m going to make sure Muffin keeps our Beast quiet,” Jack said. He slipped back into the trees. Scruffy was staring angrily, his body tense, towards the parking area.

    “Police Beast?” the Sir asked.

    “Beasts make lots of laws about their behavior and enforce them on each other,” Lucky said. “Police Beasts usually do the enforcing. It’s against the law to leave cars overnight in these rest areas.” Before the Sir could ask, he went on. “Mainly it’s Beasts who have no other home who might want to sleep here in their cars. But most Beasts don’t consider it acceptable to have no home or no place to go.”

“Beasts consider it unacceptable to have no place to go? I myself have never had any place to go.”

Lucky looked momentarily surprised, then nodded thoughtfully. “The question right now is, what will these police do with the Buick?”

Through the brush, the Sir, Scruffy, and Lucky slipped up closer to the parking area. A Beast car with a red light flashing slowly on its top and two Beasts inside it had pulled near the Buick. One of the Beasts stepped out of the car. Large, outfitted in gray cloth weighed down with an array of gadgets, it walked around the Buick, peering into it.

“Too early in the day probably for the car to have been reported stolen yet,” Lucky said. “We’ll see.”

The Police Beast began speaking something into one of its gadgets. The Sir couldn’t make out what it was saying. Some words barked back at the Beast over the gadget. The Sir couldn’t hear those either.

“Routine check, it sounds like,” Lucky said. “Probably calling in a tow truck to haul it away.”

“Should we stop it from calling?” The Sir held tight to his sword.

“I don’t think so. Once the police car leaves, we’ve got to leave too, right away. We can get as good or better a view from a rest stop further down.”

“Look at that Beast, walking around like it owns everything.” Scruffy bared his teeth, glaring. “It has no idea how much danger it’s in.”

“It has done nothing harmful to us,” the Sir said, “although clearly it would attack us, given the chance. And if it did, we would attack back, and hard.”

Scruffy was still glaring at the Police Beast. “I’m ready any time.”

The Police Beast looked around, then got back into the car and spoke to the other Beast still sitting in it. The car pulled away.

“Let’s get everyone,” Lucky said. “We don’t have long until the tow truck comes.”

Scruffy hurried around with the news. In a few moments, all the rabbits were in the Buick again, with their own Beast seated carefully. They left the rest stop.

“I could have hotwired another car,” Lucky said, ‘but it might have taken a long walk to find a good one.”

On the George Washington Parkway, they were now driving in full daylight. The Sir, to better examine his surroundings, sat on top of the seat that the Beast leaned back on. He saw occasional startled expressions on the Beasts passing in other vehicles. That was worrisome, but no doubt those Beasts weren’t sure what they were seeing and would either forget about it quickly or be startled enough to later garble the memory further. Still, a Buick full of rabbits, or whatever the passing Beasts thought they saw, was a spectacle that shocked a few Beasts out of their morning daze.

The Sir kept glimpsing Beast structures on the far side of the river they were driving above. Structure after structure after structure, tall and in deep rows, loomed on the far bank. The Sir had seen Beast towns before, but nothing as massive as he was seeing now. “This Beast city,” he said, “just goes on and on.”

“One of the best views I’m aware of is coming shortly,” Lucky said. “We don’t want anybody to see us getting in and out of the car. The gawking Beasts here on the freeway are bad enough.”

Soon after, Lucky pulled into another parking area. “Everybody get down for a moment, please. Even you, Leo. Can you duck?”

“By all means.” Leo leaned over in his seat and put his head down.

“It’s a good thing not many Beasts use these viewpoints.” Lucky was peering out the window cautiously, keeping most of his body out of sight. “Otherwise we wouldn’t be able to get out at all.”

Eventually he took a calming breath. “There’s only one Beast here, and it looks like it’s headed back to its car. Once it’s gone, we can pile out. You’ll see a clump of trees off the back end of the parking lot. When I say ready, make your way there.”

The rabbits all hunkered down. When Lucky gave the word, they jumped out and headed towards the trees. Muffin came more slowly, the Beast behind him.

“Well done,” Lucky said when they were all together in the trees.

They were still on a ridge above the river, less wooded than the earlier ridge, though with enough places to hide. From here, the view of the Beast city wasn’t blocked by foliage.

The Sir looked down on the sprawling blur of Beast structures that piled one upon another out to an appalling distance. Some were square and squat, others taller or massive. One strange structure, by far the tallest, shot up into the sky like a Beast weapon with a sharp tip. Other sharp but smaller tips shot up from this or that structure, as if the Beasts who had built them were trying to arrange a group of swords to protect themselves from invasion by the sky.

Much of what the Sir could see was shaped into square grids. Maybe Beasts preferred that kind of artificial shape to the more pleasing contours of trees and rocks and hills. Although there were some hills, and many trees, the Beast city clearly tried to control all things, whether made by Beasts or not. The trees were no more than decorations that had been strewn around the structures Beasts considered important—as if Beasts or any of their structures could have survived without trees.

“I have to fight back against all this?” the Sir cried. “This failure of principle and imagination, this massive outpouring of defensiveness, outrage, and violence against the earth itself? That is my enemy?”

Muffin threw himself on his back. “The frog is afraid.” He pulled himself into a sitting position and glared at the city. “But the panda is eager.”

“I can barely stand to look at it,” the Sir said.

“It’s actually an attractive-looking city compared to most others,” Jack said. “And small.”

“Small?” The Sir, trying to understand, looked at Jack. “Beast breeding habits are far more out of control than I realized. Do they have no constraints?”

“As you can see,” Jack said, “Beasts take over huge areas of land and devastate them, making them hospitable only for other Beasts. That’s what a city is. Some animals survive in the devastation, because they’re smart like that. Beasts throw away so much food waste that many animals learn to live off it. It’s a terrible diet, but if you live in the devastation you have to take what you can. I learned to live pretty well in cities, but it took me awhile.”

While the other rabbits were talking, Leo wandered over to a nearby tree and sat beneath it, chewing a bit of grass, his face peaceful. The Sir noticed and walked over to him, the other rabbits following. “You wanted me to see all this?” he said.

“Yes.” Leo nodded calmly. “A bunny destined for great things needs to know what he’s up against.”

[thinkingagain]

“What kind of Beast vehicle are we seeking?” the Sir asked. “Something a little older.” Lucky was marching up and down the rows of vehicles. “The new ones can be trickier to hotwire.”

Sir Sleepy of the Bunny Nest (A Novel of the Revolution) Book One: Conquest Chapter 17

“We need to find the right kind of Beast vehicle,” Lucky said to Sir Sleepy of the Bunny Nest. The rabbits were moving carefully and quickly along the side of a wide, much used Beast track made of the usual dark, oddly uniform stone with lines marked along it. Beast vehicles of different sizes and colors rushed down the track as it wound through open fields, patches of trees, and layers of small hills. All the vehicles gave off a bitter odor, some even spewing smoke that clouded the air. Every now and then, a Beast vehicle careened down the track with out of control wildness. Beasts inside it yelled or made other loud sounds: whoops, whistles, grunts.

“I hope being in the vehicle will not make us lose control like these Beasts do.” The Sir had been watching with increasing concern the vehicles passing them. “It’s a wonder they don’t soil themselves unintentionally.”

“Actually that’s been known to happen. Especially if a Beast drinks too much and loses consciousness in the vehicle.”

“Why would drinking water lead a Beast to lose consciousness?”

Lucky laughed. Another Beast vehicle whipped past them. “I don’t mean water. Beasts concoct many drinks with what they call alcohol. The alcohol makes their brains blurry and lets Beasts temporarily forget they’re Beasts. It puts them into a mindless frenzy which sometimes leads to losing consciousness. Some Beasts get drunk only while sitting or walking. Other Beasts drink lots of alcohol before getting in their Beast vehicles.”

“I think I’ve seen that.” The Sir recalled some earlier incidents that had confused him. “It seems reckless.”

“Yes. Beasts die in their Beast vehicles often, much of the time because of alcohol.”

The Sir scratched himself behind the ears, puzzling. “So they create a vehicle, then create this alcohol, then drink the alcohol they have created and get in the vehicle they have created and die in it?”

“Commonly,” Lucky said.

“But Beasts must know that other Beasts die in these vehicles?”

“Sure. I can’t prove that no Beast ever learns from something that happens to another Beast, but it’s rare. Each Beast has a powerful drive to believe it’s the only important Beast. It usually thinks that whatever happens to another Beast could never happen to it.”

A large, tall vehicle with long silver sides lumbered past them, spewing smoke and screeching. The Sir bristled. “Many of these vehicles seem dangerous even for those of us simply walking near them.”

“It’s true.” Lucky frowned, which he seldom did; he was a rabbit of good cheer and calm moods. “Beast vehicles kill many animals. Some of the time, Beasts don’t even know they did it.”

The Sir shook his sword at the large rumbling vehicle now fading into the distance ahead of them. “Beasts should be treated with the lack of respect they have earned.”

The sun had gone lower in the sky. It glimmered and flashed off the Beast vehicles which continued past the rabbits in an endless stream. The air near the Beast track kept its heavy bitter odor, but now and then the Sir caught a whiff of flowers or greenery on moments of light breeze.

Farther along, on one side of the Beast track appeared a large open field, not full of grass as it should have been. Instead it was covered with the same uniform dark stone as the Beast track and contained long rows of Beast vehicles sitting quietly. A large, low building made of something that the rabbits could see into (“Big glass windows all around,” Lucky explained to the Sir) stood at one edge of the field. Inside the windows were several more Beast vehicles.

The Sir had never before seen this kind of massive Beast vehicle storage area. He tried to take it all in: the rows of vehicles, each with numbers in their windows. Big boards with Beast signs on them were raised above the field: “Used Cars,” “Take One Home Today,” among many others.

“Excellent,” Lucky Blue said to all the rabbits. “Should have no problem finding what we need.”

“What kind of Beast vehicle are we seeking?” the Sir asked.

“Something a little older.” Lucky was marching up and down the rows of vehicles. “The new ones can be trickier to hotwire.”

“Hotwire?”

“Starting the car without the key. Done it a number of times. Sometimes I have to climb up in the engine first. With luck I find one that I can just get into the cab and start from there.”

“I’m not sure I understand, but I wish you luck.”

Lucky looked closely at a number of Beast vehicles. He disappeared under them for a few moments here and there, then came out shaking his head. He continued walking along the rows.

“Ah, here’s one.” He stopped at a long, large blue Beast vehicle. “A Buick. Done them before. It has the old-fashioned hand locks, and looks like the back door locks are open already.” He jumped on the vehicle and had soon opened one of the back doors by pulling hard on a piece of metal on its side. He looked at the other rabbits, then at the sun sinking between the trees on one side of the field of vehicles. “Let’s wait until after dark for the rest.”

“Won’t Beasts be coming for these vehicles?” the Sir asked.

Lucky shook his head no. “The owner of these cars doesn’t use them. They sit here until he sells them to another Beast, for Beast money.”

“I understand.” The Sir had several times seen Beasts involved in loud, brutal discussions over money, some of them berating or mocking others for not having it or using it wrongly. “Many Beasts love money more than they love themselves.”

“Never forget it,” Lucky agreed. “It’s one of their worst weaknesses and can be used to our advantage. Let’s go over into those trees and take a quick rest until dark. I don’t think any of us are going to sleep much tonight.”

All the rabbits, with Muffin herding the Beast dutifully, went into the trees and looked for brush to hide in. The Beast and Leo were less easy to hide, so Leo and Muffin took the Beast deeper into the trees, where they couldn’t be seen at all from the field of vehicles.

As night settled in, several Beasts strolled lazily through the field, looking in this vehicle or that, not too closely, as if doing some duty they didn’t believe in. They then moved away, got in other nearby vehicles and drive off. Soon it was dark. Eventually no more Beasts seemed nearby.

Lucky went out to the Buick. The other rabbits followed. He jumped on the Buick again, opened the door and scrambled inside, then opened the other doors. The Sir looked in the Buick. A number of places seemed comfortable enough to sit. There was also a strange array of devices along one of its inside walls. He could read the numbers and letters but didn’t understand their purposes.

Lucky was scrambling around inside. He came out again and stood on the ledge beneath the open Beast door. “Easy. We have some things to decide first. Once I have it going, we’ll want to leave quickly.”

“What do we need to decide?” the Sir asked.

“I can drive,” Lucky said, “but we have to consider what will happen if we’re on the road and somebody sees me driving. Especially a member of the Beast Police. We could get pulled over. That would be trouble. Beasts can’t fathom the idea that a rabbit can drive a Beast vehicle.”

The Sir looked over at Muffin, who still had the Beast on a rope behind him. “Maybe it’s time for my Beast to labor for me. Do you suppose it could drive and be made to do so properly?”

Muffin and the other rabbits looked dubious.

“My guess is that this Beast probably can drive,” Lucky said, “but I’m not sure how much control over itself it has. The driver of any Beast vehicle has a lot of power. I don’t think we should give this Beast that power.”

“Power?” The Sir looked shocked. “This Beast should be given no power of any kind.”

“Then I’ll be doing the driving.”

“But what should we do with the Beast?” the Sir said. “We do need to bring it.”

“We could stuff it in the trunk,” Scruffy said.

The Sir said, “I’m not opposed to that.”

Lucky shook his head. “Yeah, but if we get pulled over, and a rabbit’s driving and there’s a Beast in the trunk, things could get difficult. But listen, I used to drive with my friend the Madam.”

The Sir perked up, as before, at mention of this strange Beast Madam who had been a companion of Lucky’s. “You drove in Beast vehicles with this Madam?”

Lucky nodded. “What worked well is that I would drive, but she would sit in the front seat with me. It looked like she was driving and had a small animal friend along for the ride. My question is, can we get this Beast to sit still while I drive?”

“I believe we can. This Beast will do my bidding. Especially if Muffin and I are sitting nearby to smack it if it gets uppity.”

“We’ll all be sitting close to its teeth,” Scruffy said. “Smarter to risk the trunk. Who knows what kinds of diseases this Beast might have in its mouth?”

“We have checked the Beast’s mouth,” the Sir said. “As unpleasant as it is, I think all is well there. But the Beast will smell up the car, it’s true.”

“We’re not planning on living in the car,” Lucky said. “Just on getting where we’re going.”

“Most of us can stay below window level easily enough,” Muffin put in. “What about our friend Leo? He’s even larger than the Beast.”

Leo laughed. “I appreciate you thinking of me, little friend. I will sit in the front seat next to the driver. Beasts never expect to see a bunny my size. When they do, they take me for a bear or a large dog, or else they think, if you can call it thinking,” —he chortled good-naturedly— “that I’m not real. One time I spent the day in the woods on the edge of a Beast fair. A child saw me and asked if he could take the big toy bunny home with him. It turns out my size is not much of a disadvantage when it comes to subterfuge.”

Jack, who had been watching the conversation quietly, spoke up. “Any Beast that actually did see who you were would likely get chastised for it by the others. Beasts always force other Beasts to share their delusions.”

“It seems we have a plan,” the Sir said. “Lucky?”

“I’m going to start the car,” Lucky said. “Then we need everybody in fast, in case there’s a Beast on duty somewhere nearby, or even some poor mistreated guard dog.” He got back in the car, scrambled into the space underneath the various devices. There was a spark of light and the vehicle rumbled to life. “Everybody in,” he shouted. He moved to a spot just under the vehicle’s front window, above the wall of devices.

Jack and Scruffy jumped in the back. Leo came around and slipped into the far side of the front seat. Muffin yanked at the Beast, which growled and looked confused. “In, Beast,” the Sir said. He pointed at the car and thwacked the Beast with his sword. The Beast climbed in the door closest to Lucky. The Sir and Muffin did too, placing themselves on either side of the Beast, which whimpered quietly.

From his perch above them, Lucky grabbed the Beast’s Fleshy Piedmonts and wrapped them around the circular object jutting out from the wall of devices. Then he jumped onto the Beast’s shoulder. “I’ve got the wheel. Everybody shut the doors and hold on.”

Soon the car was moving away from the other vehicles in the field. Shortly thereafter, Lucky had it on the wide, main Beast track. “We’re on our way, bunnies,” he said.

The rabbits drove from this Beast track to that. They passed many Beast vehicles and were passed by others, some going in the same direction, others the opposite. Any Beast who was alongside the Buick long enough to look in the front window saw a young male Beast driving a Buick while some small animal, probably a puppy, apparently sat on the Beast’s shoulder. Something that looked like a very big dog sat next to the driver and gestured energetically, as if it had more to say than the driver did.