

Summer Vacation Of The Living Dead
a gruesome little screwball comedy by Alex Reynard


  -~*BOOK FOUR*~-


	~***~


-CHAPTER FORTY ONE-

Most people don't know that zombies have some of the worst morning breath in all of creation.

Max came fumblingly out of sleep the following morning. Blinking his gummy lids, he realized his milky left eye had fallen out of his head during the night and splattered all over his pillow. "Aw, gross!" He scraped the slimy retinal residue off his cheek, trying to force as much of it as he could back in the socket.

Thankfully, it started to reform quickly enough. Amid various gooshy stretching sounds, Max's eye pulled itself back together again. A few seconds later he blinked a few times and found his vision once again binocular. His bleary eye had a bit of a hazy caul over it, but that was normal. Or at least as normal as he could really expect.

He glanced over at the clock on his bedside table and realized with minor surprise that he'd slept in almost till noon. He stretched a bit. He felt a lot more rested than he had in weeks. It wasn't just the difference between a bed and a wheelbarrow, he thought. It came from waking up here, in his house, in his own bed, and knowing that at least *some* of his problems were finally solved.

But none of this was nearly as important as the wave of scent that finally made its way to his nose just then. It had been lingering in the air for quite some time now, but like a fluorescent lightbulb taking its own sweet time to come on, Max's nose hadn't been able to register it yet. Now he could, and his sleepiness was gone in the flicker of a synapse. His eyes went wide and his mouth watered.

MEAT!!!

Max flung himself out of bed and hastily pulled some clothes on, dancing about the room one-legged as he yanked on his pants. He couldn't get downstairs fast enough. Oh, there was meat down there! Lovely meat! *Cooked* meat! And lots of it, he could tell! The little zombie flung himself out the bedroom door and ran madly down the hall, his stomach growling like a diesel engine.

He reached the staircase and unfortunately, his eagerness to fill his tummy had taken up too much of the energy his brain usually relegated to common sense. Max let out a startled falsetto scream that was cut off sharply as he tripped on the first stair and slammed nose-first into the boards. Completely unbalanced now, the poor little dead pup went sailing down the staircase in a series of an extremely ungraceful somersaults.

"Oof!"
*WHACK*
*THUMP*
"Aaaaa!!"
*CRUNCH*
"Fuck a duck!"
*WHAM*
*SNAP*
"Shit!!"
*SQUOOSH*

Martina looked up sharply from her skillet at the ungodly noises coming from the stairwell. She stepped out of the kitchen, Tish peeking out from behind her, just in time to see a raggedy mutilated pile of bones and fur fly down the hall and smash wetly into the livingroom wall.

"Max!!" she shrieked. She quickly ran to her son's side.

Speedy Tish got there first, squatting over the cringe-inducing mass of broken bones and squished organs her brother had accidentally ended up as. She grimaced as Max feebly wrenched his head around 180 degrees to look up at them.

"What's for breakfast?" he asked, sounding bright and chipper.

Tish rolled her eyes. "You colossal idiot."

Max grinned.

"You- You're okay...?" Mom asked, her paws cupped over her mouth in shock and concern.

"Oh, sure, yeah," Max tossed off, casual as ever. "Didn't even hurt." With a sound like stomping on a box of animal crackers, he deftly un-broke his left arm.

It ended up taking only a short while for Max to get himself reassembled again. As his mother watched worriedly, barely able to comprehend the fact that her son was even in such a predicament, Max untwisted himself and Tish helped him pop all his bones back in place. After a quick check to make sure that at least *most* of his insides were back where they should be, the little zombie hopped to his feet and asked again what they were having for breakfast.

Oddly enough, his blithe, nonchalant manner helped reassure his mother more than anything else that this fuzzy little pile of bones really was the same ol' Max he'd always been. Her son had always had such an amazing resiliency, able to bounce back from anything life threw at him with a shrug and a laugh. Martina placed a loving paw on her son's shoulder as she led him into the kitchen. She looked into his eyes, lopsided as they were, and realized that, even if she didn't understand what in the world had become of her little boy, nothing could possibly stop her from still caring about him. A mother's love is unconditional. Max's physical self could have been changed into anything, anything at all, and she would always be able to see beyond it to his heart.

At the same moment, Max wasn't thinking anything so philosophical. His nose was just about to explode from curiosity. When he finally saw the spread that was laid out before him on the kitchen table, he let out a whoop of sheer joy and hugged his mom so tight he ended up rearranging his guts again. Tish had instructed her mother well on just what Max's stomach could handle. The two of them had been up for hours preparing bacon, sausage, hamburger patties, scrambled eggs and even a few pieces of fried chicken they'd found in the back of the fridge. Smiling as big as the sky above, Max sat down and dove in. He shouted out his thanks inbetween messy mouthfuls of life-giving protein.

The girls sat down with him, each of them having already had a bowl of cereal and orange juice a while ago. Tish was happy just watching her brother eat. He looked like he was in heaven. They'd basically cooked up every last bit of meat in the house and it had all been worth it. The smile on Max's face as he shoveled down sausages was pure bliss.

As they ate, Martina asked her kits all sorts of questions about the hows and whys and whats of Max's new condition. Everything they hadn't talked about the night before; all the 'what nows'. Tish admitted that she really hadn't been able to come up with any long-term solutions, unfortunately. She was still just learning about what made Max tick. That, and worrying about the damned train. But she knew there had to be _something_ they could do. She wouldn't allow Max to just fall apart and die again. Even if it meant going out and scavenging roadkill herself, she'd be willing to do it to keep him with her. Max, touched by her selflessness, patted her paw, getting it all greasy. She gave him a smile and licked her fingertips.

Javier came in a little while later, reeking of sweat and freshly cut wood. He'd been outside most of the morning, getting rid of the ugly old stump that had sat like a tumor in the backyard for years now. Martina had initially insisted he didn't have to, but he explained that he was restless this morning and needed something strenuous to do with his body while his mind attacked its own problems.

Noticing the remains of Max's banquet, Javier cast his eye on a lone remaining strip of bacon.

Max gave him a sharkish growl, looking for a second like a mad dog protecting his dish. Then abruptly he chuckled and graciously offered the plate to his bat friend. Sharing was the polite thing to do after all. That, and his belly was now so tightly stretched he looked like he'd soon be delivering quintuplets.

Javier appreciatively accepted the little bit of meat and tossed his young undead friend a nod. Then he excused himself and went off to take a shower and think some more. He'd had the beginnings of an idea for a while now. He was just about ready to start bringing it into reality.

Max got up and gave his mom a great big hug for such a wonderful meal. She couldn't help but notice his stench, but she did her best not to react to it. It wasn't really too horrible, actually. Certainly, she thought, something she knew she could get used to with time. And the sweet smile on her little boy's face, along with his wagging tail, convinced her fully of that.

Afterwards, Tish and Max retired to the livingroom. Max actually had to carry his bulging tummy like a heavy package. He was almost afraid it'd split his skin and flop out and go rolling down the hall if he didn't. He hadn't felt so satisfied in quite some time, not even after the hamburger debauchery at Dooley's the day before. True, that had filled him up nicely, but now his belly was packed full of real home cooking, made with a mother's love, and that made a heck of a lot of difference.

The two young 'yotes plopped down on the couch to watch some afternoon cartoons and let their minds rest for a while. A lot had happened since the day before. It was nice to just turn their brains off and veg.

During a commercial break, Max went back upstairs to get some of his toy robots he felt like playing with. As he ascended the stairs (much more carefully this time), he spotted a note stuck to his door that he had been in too much of a hurry to notice before.

He pulled it down and read:

     My little sun;

     Sorry I have to go to work today. You know I'd much rather spend time
     with you. I've missed you so much. I can't wait to catch up and do all
     the things we used to do together again. It doesn't matter that you're
     dead, you are my son, and I will _always_ love you.

     Dad

     P.S. I'll be stopping off at the supermarket on the way home and I'll
     buy you all the meat you could ever want! Yum yum!

Max stood there in the hallway, silently, smiling. He very nearly cried. Every last little bit of loneliness he'd felt all these past nights, all by himself in the shed or out on the roads, was gone. Completely gone. He was home how. He wanted to shout it out loud, at the top of his lungs. He was home now, with his mom and dad and sister. And he was loved.

Max got his robots and went to rejoin his twin on the couch. Out of the blue, he gave Tish a big fat kiss on the cheek and wouldn't say a word about it afterwards.


	~***~


-CHAPTER FORTY TWO-

Later that afternoon, Javier made a phone call.

Nearly two hundred miles away, in a dim, grey room that stank of gunpowder and dubious chemicals, a phone rang, jolting the occupant of the house out of a deep, dreamful sleep. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, alighting gently upon the heaps and mounds of empty cola cans, pizza boxes, wire fragments, bits of metal and unwashed clothing. A skinny form crawled out of bed and approached the phone, cursing up a storm. He was a ferret; light brown and off-white fur, small black paws like leather gloves, with a chest so scrawny you could count all the ribs in it like a xylophone. He was not malnourished, he'd simply been like that his entire life. Tall and gangly, with a huge head, long nose, and joints that stood out awkwardly. He had the appearance of a child's mechanical toy or a slightly drunken scarecrow.

He slipped his coke-bottle glasses up his face to read the caller ID, and what he truly was became clear in an instant. A geek. A complete and total geek.

But he was also a geek who just happened to be the number one supplier of arms and equipment to monster-hunters of every stripe worldwide.

Standing there in his underpants, the ferret brushed his sweat-dripping ginger hair out of his eyes and squinted at the caller ID display. Who the hell was this? He didn't know anyone named Lopez. Christallmighty, he had to be woken up for some damn telemarketer?

He glanced at the clock. Nearly four in the afternoon. Well, fuck. Admittedly, he should have been up by now already, but last night had been an absolute brainblender and he thought he deserved to sleep in as long as he damn well felt like. Neutron bombs didn't just build themselves, now did they?

Besides, he'd been dreaming about that hot skunk chick down at the drug store. The one with the great bit ti-

The phone stopped ringing. The answering machine kicked in.

His own voice: "Hi, I don't know how you got this number, so if you leave a message after the beep I'll have to hunt you down and shoot you."

He grinned like he always did. Okay, so his nasally voice didn't exactly exude menace, but it did seem to keep most nuisance calls away. And the friends and clients who did have his number for real always got a kick out of it.

*beep*

A harsh, dark voice came through the tiny plastic speaker: "Jeff, if you do not pick up the phone immediately, I will castrate you with a battle-axe while you sleep."

Grinning ear to ear, Jeff Windsor lunged for the receiver. "Javier!? Jesus shit-on-a-shingle *Christ*, man!! I thought the beasties finally got you! How long's it been, you airborne asshole?"

The big bat bit back a chuckle. Jeff was just Jeff, and the two of them were good enough friends that they could basically say anything to each other without worry. Jeff, in fact, delighted in saying things to Javier that would get any other man alive a lengthy hospital stay in response. "It has indeed been a while, you skinny bastard. Fallen down any shower drains recently?"

Jeff snorted out a loud, toothsome laugh, nearly tripping over the phone cord. He began moving about his bedroom, trying to locate amid the clutter a pair of pants that didn't stink bad enough that they couldn't be worn one more day. "No, but I've been busy. Jesus, I've missed you. Where the hell are you? Who's Lopez?"

"I'm going to give you exactly three seconds to think about what just came out of your mouth."

Jeff blinked, bewildered for a second before he got it. "Oh my god! Shit, man, I just wasn't thinking! You mean Carlos? DAMN! I haven't seen him since he was... What, thirteen? Does he even remember me?"

"I'm not sure. You're ugly enough, it'd be hard to."

Jeff nearly choked laughing. He finally struggled his pants on and sat down on the bed, the phone cord stretching perilously across the whole length of the small, humid room. He reached in his dresser for a pack of cigs and his trusty butane baby. He knew _exactly_ how stupid it was to still be smoking in a house that probably contained more explosives than a military bunker, but what the hey. Some habits simply override common sense. He flicked the lighter and sucked a nice, deep drag of wakey-wakey into his brain. "That's true enough. So, what's up? You haven't been over to that place since... Well, you know," he said solemnly.

"Yes," replied Javier. "But some very strange things have been occurring recently to my dear friend's children. I had to come."

Jeff wracked his memory. He exhaled, coughing a little. "Uh, Max and Tina, right?"

"Max and Tish," Javier corrected. "Yes. Max was hit by a train a few weeks ago, and died."

Jeff sat straight up like a metal rod had been shot up his ass. "Seriously? Oh shit! God, I'm sorry!"

"That is not all. Tish found Maestra's journals."

Jeff went 'huh'. He bent forward again, trying to figure out what that had to do w- "Oh fuckarama." He sagged, eyes going wide in shocked dread. "She didn't."

"She did."

The lanky ferret slapped a paw over his face. "And you had to come out there to put him back in the ground, right? Jesus, what a shitty thing to have to-"

"No."

"No? No what?"

"He came out different."

Jeff sucked in a deep breath. He'd known Javier long enough to be able to read a hell of a lot into just they way his friend spoke a simple sentence. But still, THAT was most of the way to impossible... "You don't mean... He's one of the Halfway Souls now?"

Jeff could practically hear Javier nodding.

He sat there on his grimy bed, cigarette dangling from his lip, in complete awe. "Dude, that happens only, what, maybe once or twice in a year? _Worldwide_? For maybe a few days maximum before they go all 'braaaaains! braaaaains!' again? How long's he been topside?" He took another deep drag.

"A little more than a week now."

"You're shitting me," Jeff said flatly.

"Would I joke about something like this? I thought the exact same thing you did when I first saw him. I put nearly a dozen arrows into him with no effect whatsoever."

"*My* arrows?" he asked, incredulously.

"Yes. No effect. He said later that they itched a little."

Jeff looked as if someone had just told him that Santa Claus was real and that Elvis was alive and living in his basement. He let out a little 'my brain is receiving too much information' giggle. "Christ! Usually they fuckin' blow up when you shoot 'em with those! Poof! Then you get that neat little ash shower thing. I love that. But anyway, so, uh, how the hell'd it happen?"

Javier shrugged. "His sister simply followed the spell as best she could, and she did it out of love. Just like in the legends. She is more lucky than she can possibly realize."

The ferret took a deep breath. He was staring off into space in sheer wonder. What a helluva way to goddam wake up. "So... Do you want me to come out there or what?"

"No. No need to. There is another problem I must deal with though, and something I need you to research."

"No problem. You practically own my ass. Your wish is my command."

"I will need some supplies too. By that, I mean at least one of your *special* supplies. And preferably, a very big one."

Jeff arched an eyebrow. "Shit. Well, those you'll have to pay for. 'Supplies' don't just grow on trees anymore. Not like back in the bad old days when you could practically buy 'em off little old ladies down at the hair salon. But you, my closest and dearest friend, get the discount rate."

"I am weeping, Jeff. I really am. Your generosity has touched my heart," Javier deadpanned.

Jeff giggled. "Sorry, but my ass ain't getting any richer by just giving the shit away. Whatcha need? I can probably get it overnight mailed to you by tomorrow if you're desperate. Man, UPS'll send *anything*!"

It was Javier's turn to laugh. "I am not sure yet. Only that it has to take out a very large, very fast, very deadly moving object."

"What, like a tank?"

"No, a train."

"A train!? Jesus! What kind of train? With people on it!? What the hell does that have to do with a zombie kid?"

"Stop wailing like a little girl and I will tell you. But first, I want to ask you to do a bit of research for me."

"Fair enough," said Jeff. He tried to calm himself down, tell himself that his buddy Javier would never launch a bomb at a moving train full of regular, everyday people. That thought had leapt into his mind and now he was trying to beat it back with a stick. The simple fact was, Javier really *wouldn't* ever do a thing like that, and he damn well knew it. There had to be something more here, and knowing the type of adventures they usually got into together, it was bound to be some mighty strange supernatural shit.

"I need to know," Javier said slowly, "if you have ever heard of a man, an entity, named Thanatos."

Jeff's blood went cold. "How did you come by that name?" he squeaked.

"I met him. Last night."

The ferret was sweating all over the receiver. "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. You're lying now, please tell me you're lying. Seriously, what in the name of xylophone-buggery are you up to your elbows in this time, Javier?"

"I will tell you everything in good time. All I need to know right now is what kind of being is he, and can I trust a single thing he said to me?"

Jeff took in a deep breath. And coughed again. "Christ... Hold on, lemme get my computer booted up."

Jeff and Javier ended up having a long and very interesting chat about the being known as Thanatos. He was, everyone in the close-knit little circle of monster-hunting agreed, the Real Deal. There was not much known of him that was concrete, not even by their admittedly loose standards, but what *was* known, and what Jeff eventually described over the phone, pretty much jibed perfectly with everything Javier had seen last night.

Some other questions were answered too. No, there was no reason to believe the being was an Evil One in disguise, even with his snotty attitude. Yes, it was confirmed that he had been witnessed cleansing undeads. *Many* of them. Yes, it was also rumored that he made deals with harmless spirits, and kept his word on them. One particularly observant fellow had even made mention on his website of a little black squirrel child.

Javier was not 100% satisfied, but he was satisfied enough for now.

With that out of the way, they began to talk hardware.


	~***~


-CHAPTER FORTY THREE-

Tish puttered by some time later, catching the tail end of Javier's conversation. Just before he hung up, she could have sworn he'd said something about purchasing a shoulder-mounted missile launcher. She poked her head into the room. "Uh, what was that all about?

Javier grinned reassuringly at her. "I know terrible, terrible people," he said casually. "Let's just leave it at that."

Figuring it was probably not any of her business anyway, Tish went on into the kitchen to get some fruit snacks.


	~***~


-CHAPTER FORTY FOUR-

When Carlos came home from work that night, Max ran at him like a charging bull and the two of them swallowed each other up in a hug so powerful it was a wonder it didn't cause a minor earthquake. Nuzzling his son lovingly, barely even noticing the smell, the big coyote told Max he'd been thinking about him all day long. Couldn't concentrate on a thing. His whole day was spent waiting to come home and be with his wonderful son again. Max was so happy he thought his heart might burst.

Carlos had also fulfilled his pledge to quite literally bring home the bacon. Max helped him unload the car. There was so much beautiful, luscious, red, bloody raw meat inside, it took a Herculean effort on the little zombie's part to not just devour it all right then and there. Max managed to keep his cool though, and he and Dad got it all inside into the deep freeze without incident (though he did lick his fingers off quite enthusiastically afterwards). Martina pulled her husband aside and asked fretfully how much all that meat had cost. Carlos smiled weakly and would only say that it might not be a bad idea for the both of them to work some overtime over the next few weeks.

Max and his dad played around in the backyard for hours afterward. Tish would occasionally watch wistfully from her bedroom window. Both father and son had huge, unrestrained smiles on their muzzles. Laughter and happy barking drifted up to her window in a constant symphony. She was happy for them, and content to let them have their moment together without having to be a part of it. She half-heartedly leafed through a book, though really she was listening to her father and brother playing catch and chase and roughhousing and rekindling the family spark again.

At dinnertime, Martina called the boys in to a double batch of her special homemade meatloaf. Max was still a bit full from breakfast, so he ate only a normal portion. But it was so darn tasty, he thought for sure he'd have to have some later for a midnight snack. Javier popped in for a plateful, gobbled the food at alarming speed, thanked Martina grandly, then popped back out again just as abruptly, explaining that he was doing a little 'research' at the moment. His manner suggested that the subject of his research would not make for polite dinnertime conversation. Wisely, no one asked him any questions.

The Lopez family watched TV together for a while, but quickly lost interest. Instead, they went back to talking. Max and Tish felt like they'd retold their graveyard tale a dozen times or so by now. Not that they really minded. Carlos and Martina, holding paws, let out how their half of the days after Max's death had gone. They told their dear son how much they had missed him, how every memory had hurt, and how beyond overjoyed they were now to be able to hold him again. It eventually occurred to Max to ask what his funeral had been like, and they all told the tale for him. Tish even related some of the slightly inappropriate things she'd done during the wake and the service, and even though her parents blushed a bit, Max ended up laughing his tail off, which was exactly what she'd hoped for. She remembered wishing more than anything to be able to hear him laugh again, and thought about how she never in her deepest heart believed her wish could really come true.

When everyone was finally all tuckered out, Max and Tish went up to bed. That's when Tish had another good idea. Since there didn't seem to be any reason why he *couldn't* anymore, she suggested Max take a shower to try and get rid of some of his corpse-stink. Max felt an odd, ominous sense of doom at that, but agreed to at least give it a try.

Max entered the bathroom and Tish stood outside the door. Ready in case something went wrong.

A whoosh of water. Shortly followed by several short, pitiful yelps and arfs of a young zombie in serious trouble. Tish kneaded her tail, feeling worried for her brother and embarrassed for her 'brilliant' idea.

Presently, the water cut sharply off. Soon after, the bathroom door opened. And what Tish saw standing there before her was enough to propel one of the top ten loudest screams in her life out of her mouth.

The specifics are much, much too gruesome to relate in graphic detail. Suffice it to say, imagine what it would look like if you turned a firehose on a decomposing cadaver. Yeahhh... Kinda like that.

It took Max considerably longer to get himself back in one piece this time (and to pick all the rest of his pieces out of the drain and off the floor). Afterwards, as he slithered off to bed, he told Tish there were no hard feelings, but he was most certainly NOT ever taking a shower again for the rest of his afterlife.

Admittedly though, he did smell a bit better.


	~***~


-CHAPTER FORTY FIVE-

Bright and early the next morning, Max was skimming through the newspaper over breakfast (after reading the funnies, of course), and spotted the movie listings. Out of curiosity, he scanned down the list, then brightened right up. A rip-roaring horror movie he'd been looking forward to for months was *finally* playing at the cheap theater downtown. It felt like he'd been waiting forever!

It the treehouse a month or so ago, he and Nick had thoroughly discussed seeing it together. They both agreed that the director had done some great stuff in the past, though they did debate a bit over which was the better picture; "Gasp" or "Wicked Night". Nick preferred the tension and pacing of Gasp, while Max liked the fact that Wicked Night had contained _literally_ buckets and buckets and buckets of blood, plus some of the most startlingly creative ways to murder college students he'd ever seen.

Either way, this new one, "Razor Smile". looked to be both suspenseful AND gratuitously, chunk-blowingly violent. Who could possibly turn down a flick like that?

Of course, plans to go see it together had kinda fallen by the wayside. What with him dying and all.

But Max couldn't think of a single reason why they shouldn't be able to go see it today.

Well, okay, there was a relentless demonic train engine after him.

And yeah, he wasn't sure how they'd actually get over there and back without being noticed.

And too, he'd probably stink up the theater pretty bad.

And too, if any of his old classmates saw him, they'd probly shit cinder blocks.

But aside from all that, he thought it was a good idea.

The first order of business was, naturally, to make sure Nick was even *available* to go to the movies. It was early enough that if they went right now they could easily catch the early-bird show (which was only fifty cents, wotta deal), but not so early that his cheetah pal wouldn't have already woken up yet. Max tore across the livingroom so fast to get to the phone, he ended up breaking four toes (not that he even noticed; toes were too trivial to get worried over any more. He went through about a dozen a day). He punched Nick's digits, leaving little zombie-smears on the keypad, and twirled the cord nervously, lariat-like, as he listened to the receiver ring.

A split-second before the phone picked up, Max realized he had done something that could potentially be really, really stupid. If Nick picked up, everything was fine. But if either his mom or dad did; _problem_. How exactly was he supposed to explain to them that he'd come back from the dead to ask Nick to go see a movie with him?

Thankfully though, fate decided that Max had been through enough recently and gave him a break. A sleepy, familiar feline voice came over the line. "H'lo?"

"Chainsaw!" Max shouted exuberantly.

Across the phone lines, Nick registered surprise. "Max!" He lowered his tone to a conspiratorial whisper. His parents were just a room away. "Uh, hey. What's up? Sorry if I sound kinda dea- oops. Sorry!"

Max just chuckled.

"I just got up, like, five minutes ago. I'm eatin' Froot Fings right now." To prove this assertion, a loud sound of cereal-crunching filled Max's ear for the next few seconds.

"No problem. Can you get yourself un-sleepied and meet me over here in, like..." He glanced at the hall clock. "As soon as possible?"

Cronch cronch cronch. "Maybe. Why?"

Max grinned like Mephistopheles torturing Harlequin Romance novelists. "Razor Smile is at the V6," he purred wickedly.

Nick did a minor spit-take, sending tiny droplets of milk all over the tablecloth. "Holy shit!! I totally forgot! It's on today? Can we get there in time for the early show?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" Max reassured. "Calm down, amigo. Just finish your Froot Whatevers and bike your butt on over here. I'm not missing this flick for anything. Heck, I woulda crawled up outta my coffin just for this!"

Nick laughed as he wiped up his milk explosion with a napkin. "Okay. I'll be there in... Gimme fifteen minutes. Tops."

"I'll be timing you with a stopwatch."

"Won't need to."

Both boys laughed, full of good cheer and excitement. They said their goodbyes and hung up.

Max wrung his paws like a stereotypical cartoon mad scientist. "Now for phase *two* of my evil plan! Muah-ha-ha-ha-haaa!" This of course meant squeezing some money out of mom and dad. They were in the livingroom, just about ready to leave for work. 'Perfect,' Max thought. 'Not only a day when they're both working, but there's not enough time to argue with me! Score!'

He walked up to his dad, tail between his legs, ears drooped, eyes at maximum cuteness. "Father... Oh, dear father..." he pleaded, sounding like the most pathetic creature on the face of the Earth.

"You want money," Carlos deduced.

Max grinned Cheshire-style. "Yup!"

A resigned sigh. "What for?"

"Honey, come on. We're going to be late," Martina noted.

"Dad, there's this super-important horror movie Nick and I both have to see today or else we'll become depressed and bitter and hate the world and sulk in our rooms and never see the sunlight again," he beseeched rapidly.

"Oh really now?" said Carlos.

"Plus, it's at the cheap-o theater."

Rolling his eyes so hard Max could practically hear them grind, Carlos reached for his wallet. "Oh all RIGHT," he snarled. But underneath, he was smiling. He was only playing a game of 'stern daddy' anyway. He remembered Max and Nick talking about this movie before... well, before that idea had suddenly became an impossibility. Regardless, it was possible now, and there was no way he could possibly deny his son this pleasure. He handed the boy seven dollars. "Here, get some popcorn too."

"I can't eat popcorn anymore, Dad," Max reminded him. "I'll ralph all over the seats."

A chuckle. "Well then, buy a side of beef instead, I dunno."

"Thanks, Dad!" Max said gratefully, hugging his father's pant legs. Carlos ruffled Max's headfur.

"Darling, seriously. Go-time," Martina reminded him.

He nodded. "Allright, my love." He turned back to Max, looking serious. "Are you sure you'll be safe?"

Max nodded. "Nick'll be with me. Thanatos said that freakin' train can't get me if there's any mortals around."

Mom overheard. "If you think I trust the word of some ghost you met in the woods..."

"We'll be late, darling," Carlos singsonged.

She gave him a look. Then she bent to give Max a hug of her own. "Okay, sweetie. I trust you to stay out of trouble. Not that you ever do anyway," she lightly teased. Max giggled. "Stay with Nick and come straight home afterwards, you hear? I'd tell Javier to go with you kids but he's vanished. I haven't seen a hair of him since last night. Anyway, be safe."

"I will, Mom," Max pledged.

She stood again, thinking that when Max was born all she'd had to worry about were diaper rash and covering electrical outlets. Now she had to worry about decomposition and killer trains and the nutritional benefits of roadkill. Dr. Spock had sure never said anything about THAT shit. "We finally ready, hon?" she asked Carlos.

He answered with a crisp nod.

"Off we go then. See you later, my little sun," said Mom.

"Have fun!" Dad wished.

"Bye! Bye!" Max cried out.

The door shut.

Max's grin spread like a virus. Success!!!

Then, suddenly, he was interrupted by a melodramatic wail of despair coming from the staircase.

He turned around to see Tish standing there in her pajamas (and where Martina had ever found jet-black girl's pajamas, no one knows), looking forlorn.

"Betrayal!" she shouted theatrically. "My own beloved brother is going off to the movies with his best friend, without even telling me, leaving me here to rot in boredom and pick my nose!!"

Max rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Aw, geez. I just forgot. You can come too, I'm sorry."

Tish waltzed over and slugged him on the arm. "Just kidding, idiot. Yeah, I wanna see it too, but I can wait 'till it comes out on video. This is a you-and-Nick thing. I understand."

Max gave her a quick hug for her thoughtfulness. "Thanks, sis. And I promise I won't say a word about it when I get home." This was important. The last time he and Nick had seen a movie together, they'd been blabbing about it in the tree house and Tish, having left for lemonade and then returning up the rope ladder minutes later, had had the ending completely spoiled for her. She'd practically wrung the boys' necks right then and there.

Tish had a twinkle in her eyes. "You better not. And by the way, I have an idea that's just perfect for you to try out today."

"What, train-repellant?"

She snorted. "No! I wish, though. I got an idea on how you can disguise yourself in case you run into anyone you know at the theater."

Max cringed in dread. "Fuck no. I ain't dressing up like an Eskimo again."

"Relax! That was a bad idea. I admit it, I'm sorry. I shoulda known all that clothing would just make your stink worse. That was dumb and I apologize. This idea's much better."

Max, understandably, was dubious.

Eight minutes later, beating his estimate of fifteen easily, Nick pulled up beside the Lopez's front porch. He swatted the kickstand down with his sneaker and went up the porch steps to knock on the door.

"Hello? I'm ready! I've got money! Can we go now?"

The door opened, and Nick did a double take. He had no idea who the hell he was looking at for a moment.

Then... "Max?!?"

A grin that could only be from his coyote buddy. "In the rotting flesh!"

To everyone's surprise, Tish's new idea had not resulted in comic failure, but surprising success. First off was Max's wardrobe. She'd scavenged it from all parts of the house, creating as un-Max-like a look as she possibly could. Her brother was bedecked in a coral-red baggy T-shirt she'd found in the back of his closet, jean shorts, sandals she'd never wore before, a pair of Dad's sunglasses, and a backwards baseball cap. She had also sprayed him with a shitload of aerosol air freshener.

The really impressive part of the transformation was Max's new dusty-orange fur. From a distance, he could even pass for an oddly-shaped fox.

"How the heck did you..." Nick sputtered.

Tish appeared in the doorway, brandishing a box of Salon de Scream Orange Nightmare Number Five. "I saw this at the drug store a few days ago when mom and I went out for some toothpaste 'n shit. At first I was just wandering around, looking at stuff, and I saw the fur-dye and thought it might be kinda fun to dye myself electric blue for a few days. Y'know, just for a goof."

"You'd look good in blue," Nick noted.

"Thanks!" she said sparklingly, deciding maybe she would go through with it after all. "Anyway, it said on the box that a lot of how we see ourselves and other people has to do with fur color. It can make an immediate first impression, or change a furson's whole persona. Total eureka moment. I had just enough on me to buy a box of orange for Max. Now you two can go to the show incognito," she said, unintentionally rhyming the last bit.

"My sister is a genius," Max stated without a hint of exaggeration.

"Definitely!" Nick agreed.

Tish flashed a dazzling, cutely smug smile.

Mindful of time's relentless passage, Max and Nick were soon enough straddling their respective bikes and ready to head off to the theater. Tish waved from the porch as they started off. She headed back inside to make herself some breakfast, having absolutely no idea of the mess her brother and best friend would find themselves in later on that afternoon.


	~***~


-CHAPTER FORTY SIX-

The Village Six's name was sort of a joke nowadays.

It had been around since the late sixties, a homey, funky, welcoming little movie joint that had always been popular with the youth crowd. The theater's prices had always been low, and the place was always exactly the same every time you dropped by, like some kind of deathless temporal standstill. The owners had never, ever changed their drab brown and faded orange color scheme that alternately made you giggle in disgust, yet also made you feel right at home.

Back in the mid-eighties, a fire had erupted after a bad electrical storm, completely gutting the back end of the town's beloved moviehouse. The owners, with the support of the whole community, made a revolutionary decision to, rather than close the theater and rebuild, simply lop off the entire ass end of the building entirely. And thus, the Village Six was changed into the Village Four. The name, however, never really changed. Everyone was already so used to saying it that switching to the more logical epithet seemed weird. Thus, the joke. There was even a silly high school legend that occasionally some kid wandering around looking for the bathroom in the middle of a feature would find their way into one of the two missing theaters and be lost forever. Oooh, spooky.

The story never kept anyone away though. In fact, the V6's longevity was directly due to their high customer loyalty and their dirt-cheap prices. You could come in at any time, any day of the week, and see a movie for a single buck (with the exception of the even better half-price early bird show each morning), so long as you didn't mind waiting a month or so for the flick you wanted to see to finish making the rounds of the big, chain theaters. The seats were sticky, the floors were worse, and the screens were a little on the small side, but hey, just about *anything* is worth seeing for fifty cents.

There was even the Customer Appreciation Value Card. This little square of yellow cardboard was given out to hardcore film fans and would be punched every time you bought a ticket there. If you could demonstrate you'd seen at least two movies a month for a full year, you'd get a shiny plastic Golden Pass, good for three months' worth of unlimited free movies. Max would have almost certainly been parading around with one of those by Christmas, were it not for the unfortunate happenstance of being run over and hurled into a telephone pole.

Max and Nick chatted eagerly as they biked downtown to the V6. The ride was mostly uneventful, save for Max once accidentally amputating his left foot when the pedal snapped back on him. No worries though; he just coasted until it blorbled and oozed and regenerated back to normal.

The two boys parked their bikes about a block from the theater, locking them securely. Nick did a quick recon, checking to see if anyone they knew was in line. Luck was with them again: nothing but college kids and a few old ladies. Probably not all there to see the same movie though.

The ticket taker at the Village Six was a proudly pudgy armadillo lady who smiled twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. She was a total sweetheart. Always friendly, helpful and speedy. She got to be on a first-name basis with a lot of the regular customers almost effortlessly. Max and Nick speculated that she must live in her little booth, since she was always there no matter when they showed up, day or night, every day of the year.

She was also as fond of they boys as they were of her. She knew Max, Nick and Tish on sight. Polite kids. Always had their money ready, never left trash in the aisles. She'd been letting them sneak into R-rated movies since they turned ten. She could tell they were all intelligent enough to separate fantasy from reality (Unlike that fat little white mouse kid who always threw a tantrum when she wouldn't let him in to see some bloody murderfest he had no business seeing).

This was the reason for Nick getting in line alone while Max watched silently from an alley a little ways away. As the queue of patrons inched towards the ticket booth, Nick got his cash ready, as well as his and Max's Customer Appreciation Value Cards.

"Well, hello!" the armadillo cried out as soon as she set eyes on him. "I haven't seen you for the longest time. I heard about your little coyote friend too," she said sadly, shaking her head. "Mmm-mmm-mmm. An awful shame."

Nick nodded solemnly. "Two tickets please."

Her sunny smile reappeared again. "I bet I can guess what you want to see. Razor Smile, right, hon?"

"You got it. My friend'll be along soon. I'll just get his ticket and wait inside."

"Alright then. That'll be one dollar even." Nick handed her the greenback, plus the cards, which she faithfully punched. "I'd love to chat more, but the line's backin' up behind you, sweetheart. Go on in now and enjoy the show."

"I will. Thanks Ma'am," the cheetah said cordially, tipping her a smiling nod as he stepped out of line. Max took that as his cue to pop up out of his hiding place and join his friend inside, dashing in quickly past the ticket booth.

Nevertheless, the wise armadilloess caught a good glimpse of him and was momentarily frozen stiff. She'd read the story in the papers, seen the kid's obituary... And yet she thought his nose had been pressed up against her glass enough times that she ought to be able to recognize that boy's face. Even if it *was* currently orange.


	~***~


-CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN-

There were no words in Heaven or Earth to describe how much the movie *rocked ass*.

It hadn't been one of those new-school, high-tension nerve-chewers, the ones that suck you into a paralyzing fear of dread for two hours until you just want to die so you won't have to keep watching this torturous movie anymore. Neither was it just some mindless killfest with a lot of bad overdone special effects and even worse overdone acting. It wasn't ripped off from anything else. It wasn't too cruel, it wasn't too silly. It wasn't too this, it wasn't too that.

It was perfect.

Shitloads of gore, engaging characters, a great villain, snappy dialogue, creative use of woodworking implements on cheerleader flesh, and plenty of moments where the whole theater all jumped and screamed at the same time and popcorn went flying everywhere. It was the kinda movie where some guy could yell out, "Don't go in there, stupid! You're gonna die!", and no one would shush him because it was what everyone else was thinking anyway. Everyone in the whole room was locked into one single wavelength, all of them separately experiencing something as a perfect whole. Max absolutely loved that feeling.

The two boys sat in their seats, winded and panting from such a wild ride, watching the credits roll up the screen as the rest of the moviegoers filed out. They waited, not only so that the risk of being spotted by someone they knew would be diminished, but also to check out the cast list and the soundtrack.

"That was the best movie I have ever seen," Nick uttered, in a profound state of awe.

"Hell yes," Max agreed. The two of them slapped palms. Max's wrist hung at a crooked angle for a few seconds afterwards. "You know what I liked best?"

"The bit with the jackhammer?"

"No, but it was cool how it went sailing across the room like that, right into the cop's head!" He giggled at how comically gruesome the shot had been. Plus, the cop was one of those characters that everyone wants to see die anyway, so the whole audience had laughed at that part along with him. "No, what I liked best was that all the characters who were honorable lived, and all the cowards died," he said sagely.

Nick arched an eyebrow. "I hadn't noticed that. But yeah... now that I think about it... Wait, what about the ice cream truck driver? He was a good guy, and he got machete'd in half at the end."

"Yeah, but remember earlier, how he ran away when the killer was throwin' all those girl scouts in the tree shredder? After he's chopped in half though, with his dying breath he helps set What's-her-face free, and she goes and helps the chick with the glasses get rid of the killer for good. So, in his death, he redeems himself."

Nick was rather impressed. "Damn. How do you pick up on this stuff? I never do until, like, the fifth time I've seen something."

Max shrugged. "Dunno. Call it a gift."

When the house lights finally came on, the two friends got up and headed towards the side exit, chatting incessantly all the way. They came out into a narrow alley at the side of the building and a blast of hot air ran up and tackled them. That happened nearly every single time they came here, and it *still* always caught them off guard. The benefits of air conditioning do come with certain perils.

As they exited the alley onto the main road again, heading towards their bikes, Max suddenly felt the fur on the back of his neck prickle up. Like someone was watching him.

Cautiously, he turned around.

"Oh shit."

Nick spun around at hearing the cold dread that had enveloped his friend's tone so abruptly. "What is it?"

Max pointed down the street. "Can you see it?"

Nick looked, but was confused by what he saw. There was no one on the street except them and the usual downtown crowd. Nothing that really stood out, except for that... Well, it must have been a circus truck or something. Whatever it was, it was a block or so away, as big as a semi, and covered up in a great big red-and-white tarp. Almost like it was wearing a costume.

Nick's expression went from puzzled to flat-out petrified in half a second as he realized exactly what Max was really seeing. "It's that train, isn't it?"

Max nodded. He was completely motionless. He knew that if you ever came across some big, dangerous wild animal in the woods, you were supposed to stay as still as possible and hope that they wouldn't notice you because of your lack of movement. But whether or not that worked on a supernatural mechanical being, he had no idea. "Just keep calm. Maybe it hasn't seen us."

The jaunty striped tarp quivered and black smoke boiled out from beneath it. The train made a sound like it was chuckling at their foolishness.

It didn't matter if they moved; it could smell them. It was proud of its idea. Some local furniture store had been having a tent sale. *Had*, being the key word. The train had crept right up to the giant striped covering and wriggled itself underneath. Oh, the noises those mortals had made when their tent started running off all by itself! It had laughed at them. They could do nothing to stop it, and what was even better, they were looking Right At It, and unable to see a thing!

Just days ago, the train would have never been capable of this level of trickery. But something was beginning to happen to it. It had been on the hunt for much longer than any bewitched object ever should be. When life is bestowed upon something unliving, it has a way of spreading. Growing like a virus. The train was becoming more than it had ever been programmed to be. It was beginning to feel emotions. It was beginning to strategize. It was beginning to *reason*.

And thus, it was becoming more dangerous by the second than even Thanatos could have ever predicted.

What no one realized was that, soon, if it was not stopped in time, it would lose its fear of being seen by mortals entirely. And if that happened, there was no limit to the lives it would gleefully end in its pursuit to eradicate its prey.

And after it had accomplished that... If it simply decided that it did not want to cease to exist after it had fulfilled its function...

Then no man could imagine what horrors would follow.

Max and Nick stared motionlessly at the gaily garbed nightmare.

The young cheetah bravely took a small step forward and locked his arm around Max's. "It can't hurt you if we're together, right?"

Max broke his gaze with the hellish thing and turned to look in his best friend's eyes. Nick was scared, oh yes, terrified, but there was also a steely resolve in the depths of his gaze, and Max suddenly knew that Nick would do anything to keep death from taking his best friend away a second time. Even if that meant sacrificing himself.

Seeing that, Max felt strangely ashamed. And he realized that it was because Nick shouldn't *have* to feel that way. None of this was Nick's fault. He'd gone through enough without having to be dragged into this insanity too. No, Max knew this was *his* fight. His and Tish's. Nick's quiet bravery amazed him, made him realize how true a friend he really was. But it also made him realize that if any harm came to the young cheetah because he'd gotten sucked into a mess that wasn't his, Max would feel like his whole second chance at life had been nothing but a failure. A joke. Because of Nick's bravery, Max had to be brave too.

"Nick, take my bike and go home," he said softly.

"What!? It'll come after you!" Nick sputtered.

The young zombie nodded. His face was calm and determined. "I don't know what this thing can do. I don't want you to get hurt. This is just something I gotta deal with. But you shouldn't have to."

Nick looked confused, almost hurt. "Screw that!" he said, much more forceful than usual. "I'm not gonna just bike home and have Tish call me up later to tell me how you're nothing but a stain on the sidewalk now!" He was close to tears, knowing how real that possibility was and not wanting to face it entirely.

Max abruptly stepped closer and hugged Nick. He gave him a manly series of back-pats. "Dude, you're the best friend I'll ever have. I'm not gonna die. Don't worry. Just go home, or even better, go back to my house. But no matter what, don't go the same direction I do. We have to split up."

"But then it'll chase you, and it might get you," Nick said, his voice quivering.

Max smiled his usual, devil-may-care smile. "Of course it *might*..." Something was changing inside of him. He could feel his fear being melted down into a blade of raw confidence. Could feel it building up inside of him. Could feel it helping him believe he could do anything at all. "...but if I outran it once, I can outrun it again, right?"

Nick blinked, then slowly smiled too, warily. He gave Max another big hug, a quick one, then stepped away. "Are you sure?"

A nonchalant shrug. "Not really. I'll probably get creamed. But fuck it, I'd rather die running than spend my whole life locked up in the damn toolshed."

Nick chuckled. Max's confidence was starting to rub off on him too. "Alright. I'll meet you back at the house then." He bent over to undo their bike chains. "Fifteen minutes tops, right?"

"Try five and a half," Max said, feelin' cocky now.

Nick nodded and got on his bike, holding Max's beside him. It wasn't all that easy to control two bikes at once, but they'd both had plenty of practice before.

"Wait till I start running, then go. I want to make sure it'll chase me and not you."

"Okay. Bye, Max." Nick's voice cracked a little. His mind was telling him that this might very well be the last time he'd ever lay eyes on his best friend ever again. But his heart was insisting that that was nonsense. Max would find a way. Max would beat the odds and come out on top like he always did. Because Max was just Max. And when he grinned, the universe bowed down at his feet.

Nick watched silently as Max turned and began walking down the street towards the monster.


	~***~


-CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT-

In the last handful of seconds, something had happened inside of Max.

He felt like he was made of molten gold right now. Like his blood was full of electricity. Like he was the strongest man in the world. Like he could just walk up and *punch* this goddam pesky engine and it would shatter into a million pieces.

An almost divine power seemed to surge through the young coyote's veins as he strode fearlessly towards the hunk of metal that had killed him and ruined his parents' happiness and made Nick cry and made Tish come up with such an insane, dangerous plan to bring him back to life. All that misery, because of this stupid pile of junk. This fucking train.

And now it wanted to finish the job, run him down, put him back in the ground again.

Max was not about to put up with it any longer. This crap had gone on long enough. He was tired of feeling like a freak, like a monster, like something _wrong_ that should not exist. *This* was the monster, not him. This smoke-belching, gear-grinding, mindless, soulless, asshole-on-eight-wheels. It was time to stop being scared of it. It was time to fight back.

It was time to stand up and not be bullied anymore.

Max walked across the street, as if no one else in the world existed. He stopped just a few feet away from his nemesis.

"Hey, train!!" he hollered.

It snorted at him.

"Do you have any idea how fucking *gay* you look in that circus tent!? You look like you're wearing a dress! You got on a pair of panties to go with it!?"

The train began to swivel, turning to face its prey, its metal wheels sending up sparks as it gouged deep ruts in the concrete. Had it had a face, it surely would have been slack-jawed with dumb astonishment. This was wrong! The prey was supposed to *fear* it, not stand there making loud, angry noises at it!

"I'm not scared of you! HA!! Why should I be? All you can do is run me over again. And you couldn't even do that right the first time! Look at me! I take a lickin' and keep on tickin', shithead! Try it! Just fuckin' try it!! I dare you to smear me again! I'll bet it *tickles*!"

The train was not used to emotions, and now it was feeling a great many of them all at once, none of them pleasant. This puny meat-thing was acting all wrong. This was not what was supposed to happen. This was _incorrect_. This was strange and inappropriate. Totally unsuitable. This had to stop.

Max put his hands on his hips, grinning, tail wagging, not even caring about all the people in the ticket line staring at him. Then he dropped the big bomb.

"Yo momma was a handcart."

For reasons unexplainable, the train somehow knew that whatever had just been said to it, in that idiotic meat-language of the mortal creatures, was just about the worst insult it could ever possibly imagine. Its sides shook with rage. Its wheels began to churn up the street like cottage cheese.

As the train began to rev up its engine, Max revved his up too. He started jogging in place, then sprinting, then flat-out running. His eyes never left the bulge the train's headlamp made behind the red and white striped tent. His feet pounded the pavement, moving faster and faster, becoming a blur. Blood began to speckle the ground from where his paws bled. He felt nothing. Only glee. He knew he was about to run faster than any living thing had ever run before in the history of the world.

The train's wheels were screaming, its engine huffing, the sides of the tent billowing, looking like a titanic pair of lungs.

The people on the street all stopped, unable to do anything but stare at a sight so beyond their comprehension it paralyzed their minds. What in God's name was going on here?

The bleeding stopped. Friction smoke began to rise in thin streams from Max's pistoning, machinelike legs. The thuds of his footfalls on the street blended together into a dull roar. Cracks actually started to show in the concrete beneath his paws.

The train bore down on him, emanating purest hatred. The sound of its churning, storming engine was like the bellow of a berserk giant, hellbent on destroying all in its path. The rumbling shook the length of the street and vibrated up the spines of every mortal present, even causing one unfortunate woman to lose her bladder control right in her pants.

The little zombie had clouds of hot steam rising up from his lower body, which had become nothing more than a vibration in the air. Motion so fast it actually hurt to look directly at it. His bottled-up kinetic energy would have easily killed anyone else in a fraction of a second.

He was ready.

"Chase me, stupid," Max taunted darkly.

Then he took off faster than a bullet from a gun.

One second the boy was there, the next he wasn't. The air actually *sizzled* from his mind-bogglingly fast launch. Bewildered by the seeming disappearance of its prey into thin air, it took the train a second to realize that Max had actually _run_ off. It blew its whistle in an earsplitting shriek of mad fury and tore off after him.

The chase was on.

Max screamed down the street, feeling the wind beating at his face and arms harder than an astronaut breaking free of Earth. His fur felt like it was about to catch on fire at any second. He thought it wouldn't surprise him a bit if he just suddenly *exploded* into a misty hail of blood and chunks.

But that wasn't what was gonna happen. No way, Jos‚. He had never felt stronger. It wasn't anything like the first time, running through the woods with Tish under his arm. Now, he felt like he really _could_ keep this up forever. Just keep running around the globe again and again until time finally stood still. He felt like he could dash across the surface of the ocean. He felt like if a car hit him, the steel would melt like hot butter and he wouldn't feel a thing. He felt like if he stuck out his arms, he'd be flying.

"Ha! Catch me if you can, you lumbering piece of junk! You suck! I'm not afraid of you!!"

But Max had not expected that his opponent had grown in skill as well. Despite its prey having a major head start, the train was steadily picking up the pace, moving at speeds it had never been designed for. Indeed, if anyone had ever seriously suggested to the train's original architect that it would someday go faster than an Indy 500 racecar down the middle of a paved road, they surely would have been laughed right out of the room.

Max could sense it approaching. It wasn't just the sound of that relentless chugga-chugga-chugga-chugga pounding in his ears, but the almost tangible sense of _rage_ the thing was giving off. It was *furious* at him. It was angry beyond sanity that its prey would dare challenge it like this. Max somehow knew this, just like how he sometimes knew what Tish was thinking too. Predator and prey had both been borne out of the magicks of the Beyond, and they were more similar than they could ever fully realize.

The tent was only made to house great deals on armchairs and armoires. It was certainly never meant to withstand speeds of a hundred miles an hour or more. It fluttered violently, held on seemingly by sheer will. Its frayed ends flapped like fantastic bird wings, making the train look like some horrific reject from Hell's carnival.

Max felt the air around him change, getting thicker, like he was propelling himself through water now. He realized the air pressure on his body must be tremendous, like what a jet airplane might go through when it tries to break the sound barrier. He had no idea how his fragile little dead body was holding up. A hug could break his ribs and a bike pedal could snap his ankle. And right now he was enduring, effortlessly, forces so great they'd rip any normal boy his age to shreds in seconds. He didn't know how it was possible, and yet he did have a strong intuition that it came partly from just *believing* that it was possible. His confidence was protecting him. It had become as real as a shield in front of him. Fear would make him weak, but belief would keep him invincible for as long as it held out.

Max tossed back his head and laughed. The G-forces ripped his floppy tongue right out of his mouth, but he didn't care. He just laughed some more and grew another one. The little scrap of himself flew back and plastered itself mockingly over the front of the train's grille.

"Have a taste, numbnuts!" Max called out gaily. "You'll never get the rest of me!

But as much as confidence fueled Max, rage was what fueled the train. It put on a new burst of speed, enough to bring it finally within reach of its prey's lightning-quick feet. Just a few inches more and it would gobble him up. Chew the insolent little thing beneath its wheels, then back up and flatten him further. Savor the taste of the prey's blood. Teach him a lesson.

Max could hear everything, sense the heat behind him, and did not allow himself to feel the slightest bit of worry.

He closed his eyes, and trusted in himself.

The train let out a shocked and murderous whistle shriek as the little zombie suddenly turned and ran all the way *around* it in a circle, emerging in front and picking up an absolutely *unthinkable* burst of acceleration!

Blazing off ahead like a furry little cruise missile, Max shouted behind him, "You're slower than a pair of eighty-year-olds fucking doggy style!!!"

The train exploded out an almost bovine howl of unearthly anger and _forced_ out more speed of its own.

As Max zipped along, not even able to feel his lower half anymore, he caught his first glimpse of the house off in the distance. If he could just make it there, he'd be safe. Home free, he thought with a smile.

The metal of the train was hot enough to cook dead animals on. The raggedy remains of the tent finally caught fire. Soon flames had engulfed the entire screaming engine, turning it into a blazing charnel house on wheels. A nightmare image to turn any sane mind into mush. Anyone who happened to look out their window would see a tiny flash of motion, followed closely behind by a gigantic fireball churning straight down the street faster than a meteor. Among the unlucky few who did catch a glimpse of such a sight, one gave up marijuana forever, three entered therapy, and another had a mild heart attack on the spot and after recovering, realized that the eye they had been blind in since childhood could now miraculously see again.

Max sprinted merrily along the road. He felt no pain, only joy. He felt sure he could soar as fast as his heart could dare dream.

That is, until a rather unpleasant realization crashed down on him.

'Oh crap. If I get home, there's nothing there to stop it from just plowing straight through the house after me. Mom and Dad aren't there, Javier probably won't be, and I know Nick hasn't gotten there yet. Tish is all alone in the house and it's not scared of her. It'll smash right through the front door and probably splatter her like a cockroach!'

Even more alarming than these thoughts, Max also realized that his speed was starting to slip. Like oil running out of a skillet, he was incrementally losing ground, making the gap between him and the train narrower with each passing second.

'No!!' he screamed at himself. 'I can't doubt! I have to keep being confident! It's the only way I can keep ahead of this damn thing, otherwise it'll grind me up like a ripe tomato!'

Max found himself doing something he didn't think he'd ever done before; appealing directly to whatever force had helped him out of so very many tight jams and stupid decisions all his life. He closed his eyes, feeling the wind pounding against his eyelids. "Fate..." he muttered beneath his breath, "or destiny, or God, or whoever you are, I want to live. I don't want my family and my best friend to lose me and be sad all over again. I need everything to just suddenly work itself out like it's always done in the past. I'm sorry if I'm being selfish, but I gotta ask. Thanks for all the times you busted me outta shit before. I really am grateful. I just need it to happen one more time. One more time, and I won't ever ask again, at least not if I can help it. Please. If not for me, then for Tish."

Max opened his eyes again.

He looked, and home was closer than he could have ever hoped for.

Without even realizing it, he'd put a quarter of a mile between him and the train.

He grinned. His eyes started to water, but not from his speed. "Thank you," he said softly.

The train, completely fed up with all this ridiculousness, screamed and whistled and thundered and tried everything it could to pick up speed. It crept closer, but deep inside it knew it could never keep up. It only hoped that once the prey made it to the house, it could figure out some way to turn that to its advantage.

Max blasted up the hill, not feeling the incline at all. He could see his house, his beautiful house, coming ever closer. Just a little bit more. He just *knew* something good would be waiting for him there.

The howling inferno chasing Max roared in the first pain it had ever felt as it forced every last drop of energy into picking up just a little bit more speed...

Max crested the hill into his driveway, and came within a split second of gruesomely killing Javier. Had he not been able to wrench himself to a dead stop in time, he almost surely would have run straight through his bat friend, obliterating him in an explosion of bloody chunks.

Instead, Javier merely leaped out of his skin as a steaming, pulsing, *vibrating* young zombie seemed to almost materialize out of thin air not two feet in front of him. Milliseconds later, a superheated blast of hot wind nearly knocked him off his feet a second time as it finally caught up with Max.

The train hit the rise of the hill, sensing that its prey had come to a stop, and knowing now that victory was within its clutches.

But when its 'radar' scented out the scene around the boy, it wailed in uncontrollable despair, a sound so full of righteous disappointment it nearly split the air itself. Mortals were there! Mortals were with the prey! And as much as it longed, desperately, to just mow them down as well and be done with it, to feel all their blood squishing deliciously under its wheels, it could not yet break free from its most deeply embedded instinct.

Heading up on a diagonal like it was, there was nothing else for it to do but perform an impossible backflip and dive straight down into the street, through the concrete, to bury itself in the soil. It wept bitter tears of oil and grease. It cursed the world, the universe, and even the Beyond that had spawned it.

It Was So Damned CLOSE This Time!!!

The train burrowed deep into the dirt, losing itself in its unholy tantrum. Knowing that _next_ time, it would not fail. Next time, it would win. It would kill the prey, and this time it would slaughter any mortal that got in its way...

Meanwhile, above ground, Jeff was backed up against his car, his heart pounding like a triphammer. A tiny wet spot appeared on the front of his jeans. "What in the everliving fuck WAS that?!?" he thundered.

"That?" said Max, brushing himself off. "Oh, that was nothin'."

Tish burst out the front door. She'd heard all those terrible blaring, howling train sounds and thought the world was coming to an end. Instead, she saw Javier standing out in the driveway, along with some weird nerdy guy she'd never seen before who'd apparently just pulled up in his car a few moments earlier.

She also saw Max, standing proudly, looking like he'd just kicked some serious ass without breaking a sweat. Steam was coming off of him. His clothes were tattered and singed. Most shocking of all though, every last bit of the fur dye she'd put on him (and the box said it was guaranteed to last three days, at least!), had been scorched right off of his body. He was whole and healthy and back to his regular coyote colors again.

"M-max..." she stuttered. "What the hell happened to you!?"

He smiled beatifically. "I decided to jog home from the V6. The movie was really good, by the way."

Then they all just stared at him for a few minutes or so.

Max chuckled. "Hey, is there any meat in the fridge? I'm kinda hungry."


	~***~


-CHAPTER FORTY NINE-

As Nick slowly and laboriously pedaled up the rise to Max and Tish's house, the first thing he noticed was a strange car in the driveway. It was a little blue hatchback that had obviously seen years of use, but was still clinging stubbornly to life. It was missing a hubcap. It was also sporting several humorous bumper stickers:

	'I brake for Cthulhu'

	'The only thing you can do about evolution is try not to be stupid'

	'The weatherman predicted twelve inches... IN MY PANTS!!!'

	'I only kill things on days that end in Y'

	'Life is just a bowl of cherry bombs'

	'My dick is so big it can give itself blowjobs'

	'Growing up is a disease'

	'Enjoy life, or it will enjoy YOU'

And, next to a picture of the Bible: 'Keep out of reach of children'

Nick didn't have time to read all of these, mostly because the bulk of his attention was focused on the porch, where Tish was conversing leisurely with two very strange-looking men. He tossed both bikes aside on the lawn and ran towards the house. "Tish! Where's Max? Did he get home safe? Who are these guys!?"

Two of his questions were automatically answered when Max's head suddenly poked up over the porch railing like a jack-in-the-box. He'd been lying down on the cool wood, giving his throbbing legs a chance to rest and stretch out. "Chainsaw!" he shouted happily.

The two boys instantly ran together and collided in a clumsy, laughing hug.

"You did it! Oh man, I was so worried about you!" Nick cried out, nearly in tears with relief.

"I beat the bastard! I ran straight here faster than lightning. Aw, it was great!" Max told him, almost glowing with pride. "Where's the bikes?"

"Just over there," Nick pointed out.

Tish hopped down the steps to greet the cheetah too. "Hey, Nick! You like the movie?"

He nodded vigorously. "It was *awesome*! There was this one part where the guy shoves an icepick-"

Tish shot out a paw and clamped it over his lips. "I haven't seen it yet, remember?" she said with icy menace.

Nick grinned sheepishly when his muzzle was released. "Heh heh... Sorry."

Max slapped Nick on the back (breaking his own pinky finger in the process) and motioned for him to join them on the porch. "Since you asked, this is Javier and Jeff. Javier's been here since Sunday, and Jeff just showed up a few minutes ago."

Both men held out their paws to Nick and they all exchanged hellos. Nick took a cozy seat beside Tish in the wicker porch swing. Max collapsed on the floor again. Javier was leaning up against the doorjamb, and Jeff was perched nimbly on the porch railing in a ferrety way. His glasses made his eyes look like tiny black dots.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything," said Nick.

"Nope," Max reassured. "The fun's just starting."

Jeff flashed Javier an uncertain look. It was weird enough discussing his business in front of kids, and now *another* one had just shown up. His expression clearly asked, 'Is this kid trustable?'

"You're too paranoid, my friend," Javier said lazily.

"'It's not paranoia if they really ARE out to get you'," Jeff recited. "Or, if they can bust your ass to the fuzz."

"Are you talking about Nick?" Max asked with irritation. "Don't worry. Nick's cool. He's the coolest guy I know. He's 100% trustworthy. Right, Chainsaw?"

Nick nodded. "Sure. But what *are* we talking about?"

"Things that go boom," said Tish.

Jeff was nothing if not adaptable. Plus, he'd done a lot crazier things in his career than pulling off an arms deal in front of a bunch of grade-schoolers. He sighed melodramatically. "Okay. Fine. Back to business. How much cash do you have to spend?" he asked Javier.

"That depends entirely on how much you have to sell," the bat replied coolly.

"Fair enough." The ferret hopped gracefully off the porch. "Y'wanna come see? I got everything you asked for in my car."

Javier nodded and followed Jeff to the hatchback. Max and Tish followed, and Nick picked up the rear.

Jeff dug around in the dozen-or-so pockets of his khaki shorts for a moment before finding his keys. He popped the lock of the car's trunk and let them all see what was inside.

"Holy SHIT!!" said Nick.

Max's tail wagged furiously.

Tish's eyes gleamed.

Javier did not look impressed. "This is it?"

"Come *on*!" Jeff wailed melodramatically. "You _know_ business sucks these days! I risked the hell out of my ass just bringing _this_ much. Besides, any more and the back of the car'd be draggin' on the road. This is exactly as much as I could safely bring with me, and even a little more, just because you're my guy."

The back of the unassuming little blue hatchback was filled to capacity with things that would indeed go boom. Homemade bombs, spy stuff, military-grade explosives, incendiary devices, improvised tactical charges. All that and more, casually tossed in a heap amongst the cigarette wrappers and empty cans of Hyper Cola. If Jeff were to flick an errant cigarette butt back here, the resulting discharge could have made the hill they were standing on into a valley in a split-second.

"What the heck's all this stuff FOR!?" Nick asked the twins worriedly, starting to freak out a bit.

Tish put her paws on his shoulders. "Relax. This is for the train. We're gonna get rid of it. Then Max won't have to worry about it anymore."

"But how?" the nervous feline queried.

"Javier has a plan. It sounds really cool," Max replied.

The two adults were now bickering viciously over prices. Inbetween dollar amounts, they were also shouting back and forth some astoundingly virulent insults. Swearwords were bandied about that even *Max* had never heard before. As their volumes escalated and the words came at a fever pitch, the vampire bat and ferret looked like they were mere seconds away from lunging at each other and biting out throats.

Then suddenly, Javier boomed, "Deal!?"

"Deal!!" Jeff blasted back.

With that, the two old friends grinned and shook hands, smiling like they'd just played a really good game of tennis.

"Man, I am so letting you break my balls," Jeff said.

"Considering all the times I've saved you from being torn limb from limb by the undead, I think I have earned a discount by now."

The ferret smirked. "Right. Like I *haven't* returned the favor as many times or more. Cheapskate little punk."

Smiling too, Javier suddenly engulfed his much smaller companion in a death-grip headlock. "Would you care to repeat that?"

Being that ferrets are basically narrow bags of fur filled with water, Jeff seemingly collapsed his skull and slithered out of the vampire's clutches in the blink of an eye. "Cheapskate little punk," he echoed in a self-satisfied voice, readjusting his glasses.

Nick turned to the twins. "Reminds me of you two."

Max held him down while Tish gave him a brief but sufficient noogie.


	~***~


-CHAPTER FIFTY-

Mom and Dad returned home at the same time (they carpooled whenever possible), only to discover that four extra large meat-lover's pizzas had already been delivered without their consent, and that Tish, Max, Nick, Javier, and some scuzzy nerdish fellow were all clustered around the kitchen table, drawing up war plans with greasy fingers.

"What the hell IS all this!?" Martina shrieked.

Carlos gave Javier a withering glance. "Who said you could order pizza?"

The big bat pointed instantly at the twins.

"Hey!" they protested.

"He paid for it," Nick pointed out, indicating Javier.

Carlos let out a sigh of total resignation and went to go hang up his jacket.

The trenchcoated vampire stood up and took Martina's paw. "Se¤ora Lopez, I would like you to meet my dear friend, Mr. Jeff Windsor. He is here at my request."

"Bullshit," Jeff said as he stood up. "I drove all the way out here because I wanted to see you again, ya big turd."

"What a charming fellow," Martina deadpanned.

Jeff turned to her, flashing his most charming smile, which was spoiled by all the tomato sauce smeared on his teeth. "Enchant‚, madam," he said smoothly. He took hold of her paw for a brief kiss, leaving a little orange ring behind.

Martina quietly licked her paw off.

Carlos came back into the room and Jeff extended a paw. "Hey there. I have no idea if you remember me or not. We were both barely teenagers then. I'm Jeff. Remember? The barn that blew up? All the ghosts and chickens runnin' around?"

A spark fired, and Carlos' muzzle drew up in a smile as he gave the ferret a hearty handshake. "I *thought* you looked familiar! You were skinny as a toothpick back then. Your glasses were the biggest thing about you."

Jeff rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. The more things change, right?"

Carlos pulled up a chair for Martina and the two of them joined the already dense crowd around the kitchen table.

"So, what are all you males planning?" Mom asked.

"The mother of all panty raids," Max quipped.

Mom tried hard not to laugh, but couldn't.

Tish lightly smacked Max upside the head. They both giggled.

"Well, it seems this afternoon, your son had another encounter with the train he told you about the other night," Javier said.

Mom and Dad were instantly concerned. "When? What happened? Are you alright?" they both burst out at roughly the same time.

Max reassured them with a calm nod. "Everything's okay. I outran it. Easily. And it felt really good, too."

"You shoulda seen it, Mrs. Lopez," Jeff said. "Kid ran up so fast, I woulda swore he teleported."

"Then there was that freaky noise the train made. It sounded almost like it was alive," Tish interjected, her skin crawling a bit just from the memory.

"That's exactly what it might be becoming," Javier told her darkly, in all seriousness. "But *that* is exactly why I contacted Jeff," he explained to Carlos and Martina (who had both grabbed slices of pizza by now to nibble on). "Jeff is... To put it gently, he is in the business of making problems go away by making them explode."

"I got nuclear weapons in my livingroom," the ferret said with a smug grin, making it sound like a pick-up line.

"You're joking, right?" Martina asked him.

"I just sold Javier here enough explosives to turn this entire house into confetti in a quarter of a second," he said, then took a sip from his can of cola. "Think I'm kiddin' now?"

Both parents gave Javier a vicious look, both of them thinking the same thing; 'How dare you endanger our children like this!'

Javier, not to be intimidated, glared right back at them. "Do you want Max to die again?" he asked them pointedly.

They went silent, but not without anger. That wasn't a fair question.

Nick cautiously reached for another slice.

"You have not seen it, but I have," Javier told his best friend and his wife. "It _will_ kill Max if it is not stopped, and there is a strong likelihood it may take Tish with it as well. Or even _all_ of us. From what Max told me this afternoon, it seems to be getting smarter, and this is a very bad thing. It must be stopped, and immediately would be the best time to do it."

"Besides," Jeff said in as reassuring a tone as he could force out, "I've been building and selling crap like this since I was in college. I still have all my fingers and toes, plus my tail and my..." He pointed down at his crotch and made a lewd sound effect. "That oughtta tell you something."

Martina ran a paw through her hair. She did not feel reassured in the slightest, but she did realize that Javier was right. They could wait and be careful and hope the problem would go away on its own, and if they did, Max would be dead again before any of them realized it. Her entire quiet life had been turned totally upside down in the past few days, the whole past month to be honest, but as a mother, she knew it would all be worth it if she could just have Max back the way he was before. Or at least a close approximation thereof.

Carlos drew in a deep breath. He looked troubled, but accepting. "Tell me please, what exactly is it you're planning?"

"We're gonna kick the train's ass to Timbuktu and back," Max summarized neatly.

"Specifics, please," Carlos grunted.

"Happy to provide them," said Javier. "I'm sure you've noticed that I have not been around the house much since the night I arrived. I have been out scouting, looking for an acceptable battleground, and I believe I have finally found it." He swept aside some of the pizza boxes to reveal a grease-ruined paper map of the town and surrounding areas. His thumbclaw stabbed the western quadrant of the map. "Here."

"But there's nothing out there," said Martina.

"Exactly, Mom," said Tish. "It's all just deserts and mountains and stuff out that way, once you get off the interstate. Javier was telling us about it just before you came in. We draw the train out there and that way it won't be shy about not letting any mortals see it, and we also don't have to worry about any innocent bystanders gettin' run over and squooshed."

"How are you going to lure it out there?" Mom asked.

"It'll go wherever I go," said Max.

She opened her mouth to protest, but then forced herself to bite it back. She knew this wasn't just some big game. This was a battle, a battle for Max's life. Her son was going to be in danger no matter what. She tried to feel faith in Javier, knowing he had sworn his life to protect her family, and that to Javier, his word *was* his life.

"Don't worry your pretty little head, Mizz Lopez," Jeff stepped in. "We ain't gonna be sitting ducks. Not with _this_ little cutiepie..." He pointed behind him at a gigantic steel suitcase that was leaning up against the refrigerator at the moment.

"What is that thing?" she asked.

"Shoulder-mounted, surface-to-air, heat-seeking missile launcher. Top of the line. Paid for by the good old U.S. Government and stolen my li'l ol' me."

Carlos arched an eyebrow. "_Stolen_?"

Jeff shrugged. "I intercepted a CIA shipment a few years back, bound for some shithole little west African country where the resident evil dictator would've gleefully used everything inside on his own people. It might have caused a bit of a ruckus when the stuff didn't show up, but I didn't bother to check."

All of them looked at Jeff strangely, except of course for Javier.

The big bat just chuckled. "Jeff is a bit of a pacifist. When he sees weapons being used to harm innocent people, he finds ways of taking them for himself, so that people like me can use them instead to blow up zombies."

"I've always done everything possible to make sure my weapons are never used to kill anyone who isn't already dead," Jeff stated solemnly. Then he chuckled. "Ironic, ain't it, that now this same stuff's gonna be used to save one's life?"

"Cool," said Max. He'd grown to rather like Jeff in the short time they'd known each other. Not only because the lanky ferret swore more colorfully than anyone else he'd ever met, but because he was really just a big, geeky kid at heart. That, and anyone who claimed to be able to diffuse an atomic bomb blindfolded in under five minutes was certainly worth something in terms of entertainment value.

Carlos and Martina looked uncomfortable.

"But that's not all, folks!" Jeff piped up, grinning like an infomercial pitchman. "Act now and you'll also get six incendiary bombs, five slabs of C4, a Mausland Cluster Grenade, seven sticks of DHP-9, and a brand new shiny Blood Bath Bitch-o-rama!"

"And what, pray tell, is a Blood Bath Bitch-o-rama?" Martina asked with narrowed eyes.

"Something homemade," Jeff explained. "I've only whipped up a half-dozen of 'em so far, but man, they are *seriously* cool. You got the equivalent of sixty hand grenade's worth of a special chemical mixture of my own devising, I call it 'Sayonara', in a specially-sealed central container. Wrapped around that with duct tape is three pounds of six-inch steel screws. Those things'll go straight through your forehead and out the back like a bowl of soup. Then, surrounding *that*, are twenty vials of Holy Water; guaranteed to bitchslap the forces of evil back to the stone age. Add a few TNT-pouches for garnish, wrap the whole thing up like a bigass aluminum football, and you have got yourself the most effective undead-beastie-slaughtering tool ever made on the face of the earth."

"Kickass..." said Tish, swooning like a teenage girl at a boy band concert.

Jeff reached into his vest pocket and fumbled around a bit. "I also got a few drops of this stuff," he said, mostly to Javier. "You were bitching about my prices so much, I didn't get a chance to tell you about this. Consider it a little bonus present for bein' my best bud." He reverently extracted a tiny glass vial filled half-way with an unassuming yellow liquid, and held it up to the light for everyone to see.

Nick 'ooh'ed. "What is it?"

For the first time in quite a long while, Javier's stony exterior shattered and he became an awestruck little boy. "Is that what I think it is?"

Jeff nodded. "Mmmm hm."

"What IS it?" Nick repeated.

"This, my young friend, is the single most precious substance known to any man who stands against supernatural foes," the ferret explained loftily. "It is so potent, if you were to place a single drop on the edge of a sword, you could drop an entire *army* of evil ghosts or zombies just by *swinging* it at 'em. This shit is like, if you were to take Holy Water and multiply it by about a million."

"How in the devil's name did _you_ get it then!?" Javier demanded.

"I got a contact at the Vatican. He owes me. Big-time."

Carlos got a flash of insight. "Then that's... It's not... is it?"

The canny ferret nodded, grinning. "Pope piss."

Tish and Max burst out laughing so hard they were insensible for a few minutes.

Jeff returned the precious vial to his pocket. "The really fun part is imagining the guy who had to hang out under the pontiff's plumbing with a little dixie cup in his hand to get it."

At that, Nick joined the twins in giggle paralysis.

Carlos just shook his head. He turned aside, to Javier. "Just when do you intend to mount this attack of yours?"

"Tomorrow," the big bat said solemnly. "Early morning."

The coyote closed his eyes and sighed heavily. His faith in his friend was strong, but knowing his son would be put in harm's way made his every fatherly instinct shudder.

"I'm also going to need to borrow your car," the big bat added reluctantly.

"I thought you didn't drive anymore."

"That will be Tish's job."

Carlos' face hardened into a murderous 'You have got to be kidding' look.

Javier grinned reassuringly. "Just joking. No. I may be out of practice, but I am sure I remember enough. I will be behind the wheel."

Carlos nodded, taking a bite of pizza.

"...Tish will be in charge of the missile launcher."

Carlos spat chewed-up pepperoni and cheese all over his wife.


	~***~


-CHAPTER FIFTY ONE-

That night everyone went to bed early. They would need their rest for the coming day.

Nick had called home to ask his parents if they'd mind him sleeping over. They made sure it was okay with Tish's parents first, then gave him the okay. Nick blew them kisses over the phone and told them he'd see them tomorrow.

Javier had been sleeping in the only spare bed the Lopezes had, so they were at a bit of a loss as to where Jeff was going to spend the night. He was a bit floored by their generosity and insisted it was no trouble at all for him to go out and find a motel. But Carlos insisted he stay. If for no other reason than if anything happened to go wrong with Javier's purchases, he wanted the weaselly little geek right here to be held accountable. Jeff gave the big coyote his most convincing businessman's smile and promised that not only was Javier fully proficient in the use of such items, but that all his wares had been personally checked for quality assurance. Nevertheless, upon thinking it over, he agreed it might not be a bad idea to stick around. He told them the couch would be fine for the night, since that's where he slept at his own place a third of the time anyway.

After the three cubs' teeth were brushed and they were all in their jammies, Mom and Dad gave them all kisses and sent them off to bed, both of them giving Max an extra special hug before they let him go. Tish and Nick noticed and did not mind a bit.

As they headed upstairs to the bedrooms, Tish told Nick that he could have her bedroom all to himself, since she wanted to spend the night with Max. It was a twin thing, she explained. Mutual moral support. Nick nodded in understanding. They said their goodnights in the hall, and Nick entered Tish's room, feeling a little funny and a little excited about getting the chance to sleep in a girl's bed.

When Max and Tish entered the bedroom, they were anticipating turning out the lights, crawling under the covers together and having a long talk about what would come tomorrow.

Instead, they were both mildly shocked to find a shimmering, semi-transparent young squirrelboy lounging on Max's bed, leafing through a comic book.

"Oh, hi," Croak said shyly.

"What are YOU doing here?" Tish asked. "It's not more bad news, is it?"

The little rodent sheepishly hopped down off the bed and walked over to them, shaking his head to dispel her worries. "Nuh-uh. Nothing like that. Um... Well, basically, I had some time off and thought I'd come by and visit."

Max was a little puzzled. "Why?"

Croak came closer to him, his ebony form slightly more visible now in the dim light of the bedroom. His sparkling blue eyes were still his most striking feature though. He stared at Max in quiet astonishment. "Frankly, I've never met a Halfway Soul before. I'm just really curious."

"Halfway Soul?" Max asked.

The little squirrel nodded. "That's our word for what you are. A soul that's halfway in and halfway out of death. One foot in the grave, I guess you could say." Croak's manner was peculiar. He looked and acted like any other eight-year-old boy, but yet he spoke eloquently, using grownup words and concepts with no difficulty at all.

Max walked over to his bed and sat down, a little unnerved by Croak's rapt gaze. "So, what're you curious about?"

"Oh, just stuff. What's it feel like? Is it scary? Are you afraid to die again? Things like that."

Tish climbed up on the bed too, and Croak joined them. She could sense he was really trying to be likable and not give off a spooky vibe, even if he wasn't succeeding all the way. And he _was_ really cute.

Max scratched his head. "I dunno. I feel about like I used to before it happened. I got the hang of this body now, mostly. It doesn't hurt. It's a little weird having body parts fall off all the time, but that can be fun too."

"Has your... *thingy* ever fallen off?" the little specter asked gently.

Max glared. "I am NOT telling you that!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Croak squeaked, backing up timidly.

Tish tried hard to stifle a guffaw.

Max sighed, remembering Croak's other question. "As far as being scared to die again... Yeah, I am. I mean, it's not like I'm worried about *me*. I know I'll be okay."

"What do you mean?" Tish asked him.

"Well, think of it this way: I know for sure that we don't just blink out of existence when we die. I mean, my soul had to go *somewhere* in order for it to come back, right?"

They both looked to Croak for confirmation, but the little squirrel just fidgeted. "Um, I'm not really allowed to say. There's rules about keeping the afterlife a mystery for mortals." He paused, and considered. "But, well, you guys already pretty much know. So okay. Yeah. Heaven and Hell are real, but that's all I can say. I don't want to get in any trouble."

Max already believed in a world after death, but it was still a small relief to get confirmation from an inside source. "So, yeah, I know I'll be okay even if I do get squished. I just don't want to die again because I don't want everybody to be sad over me again," he said quietly. "Especially you, Sis," he told Tish.

She gave him a sisterly nuzzle between his ears.

Croak nodded understandingly. "Well, if it's any consolation, I've spent enough time in the afterlife to know it's a pretty cool place. Even if you did end up there early, there'd be lots of people there to help you settle in and feel better. And, of course, everyone dies eventually. It's a lot easier to meet up there with people you've known in life than you'd think. You gotta remember that. Death is never a permanent goodbye, just an 'I'll see you later'."

Thinking about it that way, it seemed a little less scary. It did help to put things in perspective like that. Max and Tish both smiled bravely. If their plan didn't work tomorrow, they knew that losing each other would be devastating. But knowing it wouldn't last forever would help them both to get through it, in time.

Croak pulled himself up into a little ball of fur, resting his chin in his paws. "Sometimes, when I've got some time to myself like this, I like to go down to the abyss and watch new arrivals get reunited with their loved ones." A warm and true smile came across his young face. "It makes me feel really good inside. I like knowing me 'n Thanatos are a part of it. That what we do is important."

"What's it like workin' with Thanatos anyway?" Tish asked, knowing she could never put up with anyone that snotty for more than an hour or two, maximum.

Croak's young face lit up. "He's the best boss ever! I love him like a dad!"

This was a surprising answer, given their impressions of him from the day before.

"You don't know him like I do," Croak said defiantly, seeing their awkward reactions. "Yeah, he's got a temper, and he talks a whole lot, and he's angry a lot of the time. But he's never like that to me. Not _ever_. He's just got, like, the shittiest job in the whole Beyond. Think about what it'd be like if day after day, you had to not only fight zombies and ghouls and wastelings 'n stuff, but also have people scream at the sight of you, and try to run away from you, or hurt you, or just basically treat you like you were evil. He's really a good guy, and without him the whole universe would collapse. I wish people'd stop being so damn mean to him all the time."

Looking at it that way, both Max an Tish did find a bit of sympathy in their hearts. Tish remembered thinking about the grim reaper, and how sad he must be to have a job where everyone hated him. She felt a little bad about feeling the same way towards Thanatos.

Max was thinking much the same thing, but then his mind caught on a word he'd heard twice now and had no idea what it meant. "Hey, what's a 'wasteling' anyway?"

Croak went right into authoritative mode, sitting up sharply and speaking like he was reading out of an encyclopedia. "Wastelings are one of the rarest of all undead beings. They are created when a furson is completely cast aside by everyone around them. When they die, their souls become bonded to filth and garbage and are unable to pass on to the next plane of existence. Sometimes they'll just lay there for centuries until we find them and rescue them. Or sometimes they can be awakened and become Halfway Souls like you, only made out of garbage instead of meat."

Max went 'hm'. "I've never heard of one before." Tish hadn't either.

"Like I said, they're rare," Croak went on. "There are maybe only four or five on the whole planet right now, and that's not counting the ones whose souls are still trapped in the trash. There's way too many of those. It's actually really sad.

"We met some a few months ago," Croak recalled. "Two trash-zombies, I mean. A rat and a wolfox; best friends actually. They weren't bothering anyone, and they already had a good home and were being taken care of by a nice skunk guy, so we had a fun little chat with them and let them stay aboveground. Sometimes our job can feel really good when we meet nice undeads like them. And like you," he added.

Max smiled. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Croak said affably.

"Um, can I ask something?" Tish piped up.

"Sure."

"How old are you?"

The squirrel shrugged. "Geez, I dunno. Thanatos found me when I was eight and I've been eight ever since. Time's kinda weird in the Beyond; that's where we live. It's a place inbetween your world and the afterlife. It's where all the behind-the-scenes stuff goes on.

"Basically, a really long time ago, I used to be a kid just like you two. I died, but I don't remember how now. I don't even remember what my real name useta be. But my old life must've been real bad, since the very first thing I *can* remember is agreeing to let Thanatos erase my memory. I've asked him about who I used to be a few times, but he won't tell me. He said I begged him not to. Made him promise. All I know is, I was really scared back then. Terrified. And when he found me as a ghost, he was so nice to me. I was crying a lot, and he picked me up and held me in his warm cloak and I felt better then.

"Ever since then, I've been his assistant. I like my job. I like helping him out with stuff, and even though he doesn't say it too often, since he's always trying to look important and intimidating, I think he's really glad he found me too. Sometimes he'll come home after a really rough day, and he'll see me, and right away he'll smile. I like knowing I'm there to cheer him up."

Tish smiled softly. "That's really kind of you."

Croak smiled proudly. "Thanks. Me 'n Thanatos, we need each other. He makes the world run smoothly and I help him chill out." He chuckled. "That, and I'm always there to listen when he gets in one of his rants. He'll pace around the room, going on and on about how dumb mortals can be, and I'll just nod and smile until he's done. He says if I'm smart, I should get a desk job when I grow up; customer service sucks."

Max and Tish both laughed.

The small squirrel, who had seen many aeon's worth of experience but was still a child in heart and mind, felt happy to hear the sound of their laughter. As much as he loved tagging along with Thanatos, it got lonely in the Beyond sometimes. It was nice to be able to sit and talk with someone a little closer to his own age.

"So, um, I know it's late, but I don't get too much free time," Croak said softly. "Would you mind just hanging out together for a while until I have to go home?"

"Sure," Tish said warmly. She sat up and pulled the small specter closer. "We don't mind, do we Max?"

"Naw," He reached over to give the li'l guy a soft noogie.

Croak giggled.

"Hey, I got a question," Max said thoughtfully.

Croak perked up.

"Is El Chupacabras real? I remember hearing about that thing on some late-nite TV show."

"Yeah, the Goatsucker!" Tish added.

The little black squirrel stared at them for a few seconds, then suddenly burst into broad chuckles, as if he could not believe what an inane question he'd just been asked. "Of *course* they're real! Duh! I can't believe you mortals haven't caught one yet! There's not even anything supernatural about them! They're just a breed of vampire bats that live on the ground, don't fly anymore, and are about the size of housecats. You should ask Javier about them; he used to keep one as a pet a few years ago!"

Max blinked, dumbfounded.

"Really?" said Tish. "Dang, now I kinda want one."

"We could name it Fluffy," Max suggested.

They all laughed and talked and had fun together for a long time afterwards. Until Carlos finally came upstairs and pummeled on the door and threatened to ship them all off to the zoo if they didn't quiet down and get to sleep. This just made them giggle more.


	~***~


-CHAPTER FIFTY TWO-

Max woke before dawn the next day.

He blinked the sleep-dirt from his eyes and felt his second-rate body begrudgingly becoming animate again. He had not told anyone else yet, not even Tish, but he'd begun to notice something new and frightening about himself. It was taking longer every morning to wake his body up from slumber. His mind would awaken the same as usual, but trying to force motion from his limbs required a greater effort each successive morning. It was subtle, yes, but by now it had become too noticeable to ignore. Max was getting worried. What if, he wondered, one of these days he woke up and his body just wouldn't obey him at all no matter how hard he tried? What if his mind ended up stuck in this decaying hunk of meat until he finally rotted away to nothing? These thoughts sent chills down his spine. He knew something would have to change soon. Something more than just exterminating a train.

He could feel Tish snuggled up behind him. She had put her arms around him like a teddy bear and had been cuddling him all night long. Her nose was nuzzled up between his neck and shoulder, and her smile was sweet. She did not mind his smell at all now. It wasn't bad anymore. It meant Max, and so it gave comfort.

Max wriggled slowly and carefully out of her grasp, figuring that since she was alive, she probably needed more sleep anyway. When he stood up and turned around, he saw her expression change from contented to confused. Her arms twitched, believing they ought to be hugging something. Thinking quickly, Max placed his wolf plushie Thunder into her arms. Tish's smile returned quickly. Max replaced the blanket over her, and she slumbered on.

Padding silently, Max walked over to the window. It was still dark out, but he could see someone out there in the backyard. Javier. Silently sitting cross-legged, facing east.

Curious, Max pulled on some clothes and slipped downstairs to join him. He snagged a few hamburger patties from the deep freeze on the way, for breakfast.

The grass rustled ticklingly on his feet as Max stepped out onto the lawn. Javier's ear twitched, but otherwise he gave no sign at all he knew the boy was there. And yet, Max just sorta *knew* that he knew.

Quietly as he could, feeling that this moment was somehow sacred, Max approached his protector and sat down next to him. He crossed his legs too, making the pair a mirror image.

Javier's eyes were closed and his face was still. He looked at peace. For a few moments, all was silent.

Then the big bat smiled slightly. "You're not really going to eat those like that, are you?"

Max looked down at the frozen circles of meat. "Well, sure."

"They don't hurt your teeth?"

"No. I don't bite 'em, I suck on 'em. Like meatsicles."

A tiny chuckle from Javier. "Clever boy."

Max nibbled and tasted his breakfast, feeling his body take in the luscious protein and use it to shore up his steadily collapsing self. "So, what're you doing out here?" he whispered.

"I am being quiet."

"Oh..." Max said, a little embarrassed. He shut his mouth.

Javier opened one eye. "No, no. Do not misunderstand. I said 'quiet', not 'silent'. We can talk. In fact, I would very much like to talk with you, young one."

The little zombie smiled. "Okay. What about?"

The morning darkness was losing strength, giving way to a soft greyness out on the horizon. The sun was approaching.

"How do you feel about today?" Javier asked.

Max broke off a little bit of hamburger, chewed it a bit, then swallowed. "I feel pretty good."

"Confident?"

"Yeah."

"Do you believe we will be victorious today?"

Max nodded. "I hope so."

The big bat shook his head, just slightly. "No. That is not enough."

Max made a little 'excuse me?' sound.

"Just hoping is not enough," Javier explained, his eyes still closed. "I have gone into battle a thousand and one times. On many occasions, the odds have been against me. My fight has been impossible. And yet I won nonetheless. How did I do this?"

"I dunno."

"Because, young one, I _knew_ that I would win. I knew, as much as I know that the sky is above me and the ground is below, that the only possible outcome to my battle was success. I would be the victor, as surely as the sun will soon rise before us.

"Do not confuse this with overconfidence. No, that is something you must _never_ let yourself slip into. You cannot expect a victory and then do nothing on your own to bring it about. But if you believe in your heart that you are on the side of righteousness, and that fate will deliver victory into your hands, then you must be prepared to work as hard as you can to *seize* that victory.

"See your battles as a road, young one. A long, hard road, with many obstacles. But at the end of that road, there stands an angel. She is holding out a sword of triumph to you. The sword is there. You can see it every step of the way. You know it is there. But it is up to you to fight your way towards it, never giving up, never doubting, never weakening. Until finally you can take it in your hands and raise it high above you, and know that you have won. Know that you have won, because you have earned it."

Max sat silently for quite a while. He stared off into the growing dawn, watching as grey became purple and purple became red, feeling Javier's words take root deep within him.

Finally, he turned to his companion, looking up into that gnarled, scarred, serene face.

"That was probably the coolest thing I've ever heard anyone say," he uttered with total sincerity.

Javier chuckled. "Cool? I am not sure if I am 'cool' or not. I just hope that maybe I can fulfill my promise to protect you, not just with my actions, but by helping you become stronger as well, Young Master Max."

Max smiled. "Thanks."

"Now, I will ask you again," said Javier, "do you believe we will be victorious today?"

Max smiled, feeling strong and right and brave. "I don't have to," he said. "We've already won."

Javier opened his wise eyes to regard his small compatriot. He put his wing around the boy. "I am very proud of you."

Without a word more, they watched the sun rise. Watched the gorgeous colors slowly reaching up and out from the horizon to make the morning sky a work of art. A mural painted with colors too rich for any mortal artist to ever grasp.

Max knew in his heart he was ready.


	~***~


-CHAPTER FIFTY THREE-

Max gently tugged on Tish's pajama sleeve.

"Huh?"

"Wake up, sis. We've got a train to catch."

Tish sat up and yawned, then leaned over to give her brother a hug.


	~***~


-CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR-

They found Jeff asleep on the couch in such a gruesomely contorted position, it was nearly impossible to believe that he actually still had a spine, that someone hadn't snatched it out of him while he slept.

Martina winced. "If he wasn't snoring so loud, I'd think he was dead."

Javier grinned. "Jeff is very, very flexible. One time I stuffed him into a duffel bag. You know, for fun. He liked it."

Carlos was not much surprised by this.

The twins were running about like two little furry streaks of lightning, checking on this and reminding each other of that. They both felt refreshed and full of energy. You'd think, just by looking at them, that they were getting ready to go on a field trip rather than an nigh-unwinnable fight to the death. Their confidence was so strong it was almost tangible. Like a nimbus around an angel's head in a renaissance painting.

Being a feline, Nick wasn't really a morning furson. He was currently slumped in his seat at the kitchen table, stuffing his face with Sugar Bonks and blinking a lot.

Jeff was snoring like a hacksaw pulled across corrugated cardboard. Javier decided to solve this little problem directly, by tipping over the couch and letting his friend flop clumsily out onto the livingroom floor.

"Wutthefuckyshitnipples!?" Jeff blurted incoherently.

"Rise and shine, mi amigo!" Javier said jauntily.

"Fuck you and everybody who looks like you," Jeff replied. The rattled ferret got blearily to his feet and cast about for his glasses. "In fact, fuck anyone who's ever spoken to you, ever looked at you, or even has the same first name as you."

The big bat took in a deep breath, smiling rapturously. "Ah yes, it is a beautiful morning, is it not?"

Jeff gave him the evil eye, having finally found his glasses. "Until I get some coffee in me, ain't nothing's beautiful."

"I shall get you some then. Regular, or decaf?" he teased.

Jeff gave him a look like he'd just compared his mother to a street whore. "DECAF!? Don't even kid around like that, man!!"

Javier couldn't resist a chuckle. "Sorry. You are just so very easy to tease, my friend. Besides, I had to wake you since you still have the vial on you, and I would have felt strange about patting you down for it"

"Oh, yeah, right... Gimme a second." Jeff searched himself thoroughly before finally coming across the all-important quantity of papal effluence. "Here ya go. Now get me some mothertruckin' coffee."

Always knowing exactly how far to push his ferret friend, Javier took the vial from Jeff, gave him an obsequious nod, and headed for the kitchen.

On the way, he intercepted Max. "I think you should hang on to this," he said, holding out the vial.

Max looked down at the golden droplets. "How sure are you this stuff will work?"

"Very," Javier replied. "But even if it doesn't, it is always a good idea to be more prepared than you think you need to be."

The little zombie considered that, then nodded and stuffed the vial deep within his jeans pocket.

A few moments later, Jeff gratefully received his coffee, then went over to sit at the table with Carlos and Martina, all of them sipping from their mugs like babes from their mother's teats.

Meanwhile, Tish was trying to spark some life in Nick.

The little cheetah growled softly every time Tish poked him in the shoulder. "I'm not waking up any faster with you doing that," he groused.

She pulled her chair closer, and laid her head on his shoulder, looking up at him with her wide green eyes. "Sorry, Nick. I'm just all revved up for what we're gonna do today, and I want you to be excited too."

He arched an eyebrow. "Why? I mean, I'm not even going along with you 'n Max. You don't really need me for anything."

She seemed shocked to hear him say that. "We do too, Nick! You're our best friend! It'll be enough just to know that you'll be here waiting for us to come back." She snuggled up to him again. "We _always_ need you, Nick," she told him earnestly.

At that, the young feline really did feel better. He turned in his seat to give Tish a hug, and was utterly floored when, out of nowhere, she kissed him on the cheek.

After everyone had gotten all breakfasted up, the final arrangements for the day were made. Jeff, Javier and Carlos went out front to transfer all the weaponry from Jeff's blue hatchback to Carlos' black sedan. When the coyote asked the ferret why he wasn't willing to risk HIS car, Jeff told him that risk didn't have anything to do with it. Simply put, his near-terminal little car hadn't seen seventy MPH in three years or so. It would be like riding into battle on a skateboard with three wheels.

All the gear was checked, re-checked and triple-checked. Jeff called Tish outside and gave her a lesson on the finer points of using a heat-seeking missile launcher. Just point and shoot, he said. Easy as taking a Polaroid. Tish accepted the deadly mantle, mildly awestruck, and shivered at the sheer weight of it on her shoulders. It was like the greatest Christmas present ever.

Javier did some last-minute preparations as well. Finding a moment to quietly slip away, he stole around to the other side of the house and found a shady spot. He knelt and prayed, asking the forces Beyond, and the spirit of his mentor, to guide him on his path today so that three would go out, and three would also come back.

Finally, at close to nine A.M., everything was ready.

They gathered on the porch. Carlos and Martina hugged their precious children again and again, whispering words of love and encouragement in their ears and begging them to be careful, to be thorough, and to come home safely. Nick piled on plenty of hugs as well, promising his friends that he would be here waiting for them to return. The normally unsentimental Jeff even broke down and held his most trusted comrade in a tearful embrace for a few moments. True, he and Javier had cheated death many, many times in the past, but never before had they gone up against an enemy they knew so little about. The big bat patted his friend on the back,and told him he had 100% faith in the 'supplies' he would be using. Carlos came over to give his best friend a 'good luck' hug as well. Eventually, everyone ended up hugging everyone else at least once.

But the inevitable can only be prolonged so long, no matter how many hugs are exchanged. Tish, Max and Javier stepped down off the porch and headed for the car, feeling fear but also bravery in their hearts. For what is bravery but feeling fear, and then doing what needs to be done anyway?

The four on the porch waved to the departing three as they climbed into the sedan like astronauts entering the space shuttle. Carlos and Martina hoped they would see their cubs again. Nick hoped he would see his best friends again. And Jeff hoped he'd see again the only man alive who could possibly put up with his bullshit for any length of time without strangling him.

Many, many goodbyes were exchanged.

Javier shut the door behind him. The silver suitcase was in the passenger seat. Tish and Max were in the back. "Are we ready?" he asked them.

Tish nodded. "Hell yeah."

Max nodded too. "Yeah, but do you think we could make a quick stop first?"

"Where?" Javier asked.

Tish suddenly knew, and grinned. "Of course."


	~***~


-CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE-

A handful of minutes later they were pulling up in the parking lot outside Dooley's.

A giant vampire bat in a trenchcoat entered, followed by two small coyote children, one of whom smelled rather ripe.

The paper-hatted peon behind the counter looked wary.

Javier's resonant voice spoke softly. "I would like twenty hamburgers, please."

"Uh, sir, we don't start serving burgers until noon. Would you like to try our Hot 'n Yummy Sausage Muffin Sandwich instead?"

Javier leaned in very, very close to the trembling cashier. He placed his right winghand in his pocket and grinned charmingly. "Let me make things very simple for you. I would like to order twenty hamburgers. Please. You can put anything you like on them, I only care about quantity. I have plenty of money, I have very little patience, and I also have these..." When he withdrew his winghand and held it less than an inch from the cashier's face, it was *crawling* with an impenetrable crust of live, writhing scorpions. "My little friends here also have very little patience."

Coming dangerously close to shitting his pants, the cashier managed to squeak out, "And would you like fries with that, sir?"

Max and Tish smiled pleasantly. Who said customer service was dead?


	~***~


-CHAPTER FIFTY SIX-

Max ate as they drove, losing himself in carnivorous ecstasy. Tish, packed into the back seat next to him, daintily nibbled away a burger of her own in about the same time it took Max to down five. She didn't mind the occasional flying droplets of spit or ketchup. The limitless glee on her brother's face was well worth it.

Javier was not much of a fan of fast food, but he occasionally picked at a single burger of his own as he piloted their vehicle down the long and linear highway out of town. The road was growing ever more empty with each passing turn of the odometer. Soon, the little gas stations and restaurants that speckled the route on either side would disappear completely, and they would be totally alone.

Telephone poles zipped by like an endless zoetrope loop. The early day outside was so silent, they could just as easily have been on the moon. Large birds circled overhead sometimes, and the sun beat down on the little black car. Not menacingly, but as it it were aware of their reason for travelling and was helping to make sure they would all be warmed up for their mission.

When the Dooley's debauchery was over, Tish had eaten two, Javier one, and Max's gut was now swollen with a grand total of seventeen. His face was locked in a goofy, blissful grin. He played bongo drums on his taut belly and felt good. He wadded up all the extra buns, lettuce, tomatoes and whatnot up in the wrappers until he'd created a greasy paper volleyball. Naturally, he and Tish took turns hurling it at each other and giggling.

Javier glanced at them from the rear view mirror and smiled. He would not in a million years have told them to quiet down and act serious. No, he knew well that laughter is a powerful force. It uplifts the spirit and imparts confidence. Laughter was good. And too, it is hard to laugh and be frightened at the same time.

'Hard, but not impossible,' he noted internally. 'Something to keep in mind.'

When there was nothing but desolation and tumbleweeds as far as the eye could see, both ahead and behind, Javier idled down and checked the map. Good. They were almost certainly out far enough by now. He spun the wheel to the left and drove them off the paved path. The sound of crunching gravel under tires sprang up immediately.

The noise sobered Tish and Max up a bit too. They were driving across bare earth now, leaving the road behind. They were really doing this. They were really driving out into the middle of nowhere, literally, into combat with the thing that was trying to kill them all.

But that alone wasn't enough to dampen their high spirits. The twins got up in their seats and poked their muzzles out the windows, looking around in wonder at this alien landscape that was their home.

The sand was every color of the sunset. Tan in places, deepening to brown and even red here and there. Cacti stood about in aloof groupings, like snooty guests at an elegant dinner party. Rocks of every size, colorization and shape dotted the landscape. Some were small enough that little creatures were using them as tanning beds. Some were so huge they suggested mammoth shapes, like a child looking for images in clouds. A giant fist, half of an ambulance, an old lady's knee, a crouching spider...

Out on the horizon, Max and Tish could see a jagged line of red mountains. They looked surreal, like a gigantic illustration painted on the sky itself. Nearer but still far away were ridges and cliffs, making the land look like the sandbox for a thousand-foot-tall toddler.

Just as many New Yorkers have never been inside the statue of liberty, Max and Tish had never really paused to appreciate the beauty of their own home state. Out here, it was easy to believe they were the last living beings on earth. That this red Marsscape stretched on outwards into infinity. It was a rare instance of both twins becoming absolutely silent for an extended period of time.

Javier, of course, was not nearly as awed as the cubs, but could still appreciate the majesty of the land surrounding him (that, and the smooth handling of Carlos' car). The desert was his home. His friend. Someone he understood. When the train came, it would not realize that it had been brought to fight in Javier's natural element. That is one of the elementary rules of battle; get home-court advantage whenever possible, and make good use of it.

Finally, after an hour or so of driving (which hadn't seemed nearly that long), Javier felt something click into place within his soul. This was the spot where it should happen. He felt sure. He pressed down on the brake and slowed the car to a stop. It still felt odd to him to be operating a machine like this. He probably could have flown here in the same amount of time. But he had to admit, though somewhat foreign to him, cars were indeed very useful for transporting cargo and companions.

He turned around in his seat to face the young ones. "We are here."

"How do you know?" Tish asked.

He shrugged. "I have a feeling. I have spent many years learning how to read the desert. This place feels lucky to me."

Tish nodded, then looked out the window at the miles and miles of nothing all around her. A slow breeze rustled her fur. "Geez, how're we gonna find our way home afterwards?"

Javier gave her a crafty, mock-insulted smile. "Do not ever question the navigational aptitudes of a bat, Young Miss," he said with a flick of his ears.

She chuckled. "Okay, sorry."

Max was about to add something, but as soon as his mouth opened a thunderous belch escaped that shook the doors on their hinges.

"Oops," he squeaked.

"If you have another one of those left in you," said Javier, "we may not end up needing any of Jeff's supplies at all!"

"Yeah, we could just have Javier point you at the train and you could *burp* it to smithereens!" Tish said gleefully.

Max snorted with laughter, trying to picture such a scene.

Javier leaned over the passenger seat and unlatched the big silver suitcase. Little metal sounds accompanied his skilled reassembling of the weapon inside.

"Whatcha doin' now?" Tish asked, peeking over the seat back.

"I am getting ready, and you should do the same." He popped the trunk latch. "Go and bring me some of the incendiary bombs, please," he asked her. Tish saluted him and skittered out the door.

"I hope I don't have to do any runnin' around. Y'know, at mach speed," Max said, rubbing his round belly. "I'm starting to feel kinda full from all those hamburgers."

"No worries, Young Master," Javier told him as he slid the last piece of his explosive puzzle into place. "You are, in a sense, our bait. Your job is to sit back and relax and draw it near, so that we can then kill it."

The little zombie frowned in mock-disappointment. "In other words, you 'n Tish get all the fun. Hmph!"

Javier chuckled. "Do not worry, Max. If you think our plan is going to go off exactly as we have envisioned it, you will undoubtably be proven wrong. Nothing ever goes according to plan. It is simply how the world works. Nature abhors two things: a vacuum, and the plans men make."

Max pondered that.

What Javier was not aware of was the fact that his words were already coming true, even as he spoke them.

Tish returned with the incendiaries and Javier explained what he planned to do with them. The three hunters all began to settle in and wait. They kept their eyes peeled, always looking around. They were out in the middle of nowhere, with nothing to hide behind. When the train came, they would see it from a mile away and be ready.

Or so they thought.

For they had forgotten something very important about it.

They had forgotten that it could *tunnel*.


	~***~


-CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN-

It was already in the earth.

It could feel them up above, and knew it was drawing nearer to them. It was laughing in the cold, hard dirt, ramming forward at an obscene pace, never tiring or resting.

Getting closer every second.

It had them now. All three: the prey, the thing that smelled like the prey, and the bothersome mortal that had vexed it before. But now it knew better. The mortal could be dealt with too. It had all become so simple, so clear. Its purpose, its very reason for being, was to eliminate the prey. And how could it possibly be expected to do its job effectively if it was hindered by such nonsensical restrictions as 'Must Not Kill Mortals'?

Well, no longer. It would not allow itself to be bound any longer by silly rules that made hunting inefficient. In order to kill the prey, it would kill them too. It would wring the life from them slowly, then drape itself in their pelts. The ragged remains of their pathetic flesh bodies would hang from its strong metal sides like a royal robe. And the head of the prey would dangle, silent and stinking, from its headlamp. Its light would shine gloriously through those open, forever-dead eye sockets.

The train laughed and laughed.

Closer still.

Closer still.

Until it was right underneath them and they didn't suspect a thing.

Its front end swung up; burrowing upwards like a rocket. When it broke through the soil into the sunlight, it would catch their wheeled metal cage on its grille and send them flying up into the air, then pile-drive them back down into the earth, crushing them like overripe fruit, smearing their blood, seeping their lives from their red husks.

And then, it would finally know joy.


	~***~


-CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT-

It was Javier's species that saved them.

Most bats are not blind, contrary to popular belief, but many people seem to think so because their ears are so sensitive, a bat's eyes become a secondary sense. Some species' ears are so attuned that they simply use them in place of their eyes altogether. Vampire bats are not quite this skilled, but their hearing is still very, very good.

What Javier heard was a low, evil rumbling. He thought at first it was coming from somewhere off in the distance, but a split-second later he was able to pinpoint it exactly. It was coming from below. Directly underneath. And in that instant, he realized he had underestimated his opponent.

He screamed a booming spanish expletive and jammed the key in the ignition.

Max and Tish felt the rumble only when it was almost upon them. Their fur stood straight up and they clutched their seats in a death-grip.

And then the train emerged.

Bellowing, howling, steaming, it exploded up out of the earth like a whale leaping out of the sea. But this sight was not one of awe, it was one of abject screaming insanity.  Dirt showered down like brown fireworks. The deadly metal missile propelled itself thirty feet in the air or more and realized only too late that it had not caught the prey on its face as it had planned. Its rage-roar shredding the sky, it turned on its apex and plunged back to earth again. If it could not swat them, it could certainly dive-bomb the filthy fleshsacks.

Javier had just enough time to start the car and slam his foot down on the accelerator. When the train had ambushed them, it had succeeded only in rising up the car's back end about five feet or so, and, ironically, helping give them just enough of a push-off to escape its attempt to crash down on top of them. The behemoth crunched gracelessly down a few scant feet behind them and bleated in anger and frustration. The big bat had his foot jammed down on the pedal so hard he thought he might end up with a permanent impression of it branded onto his sole.

Again, the chase was on.

"Tish!" Javier shouted. "Find me something to force the accelerator down!"

Tish dutifully cast her eyes about the backseat, Max helping her look, and came up with a canister of some kind of liquid explosive. It was sealed tight enough it could handle a bit of rough treatment. Tish pitched the small cylinder into the front seat and Javier wedged it in good without even having to look.

Max turned around to see out the back window. It was right behind them, and gaining. That murderous silver face, glaring at him without eyes. Wanting to eat him.

Even with the speedometer needle stuck way past the limits it had been designed to measure, there was simply no way the black sedan could match the train's velocity. The beast had them now, and it knew it. It decided to play with its food a bit before chowing down. It revved up and tapped their back bumper, just enough to let them know it was there. It backed off, a dark giggling sound coming from somewhere deep inside its engine, and then rammed forward again, sending the car fishtailing wildly.

For someone who was out of practice with automobiles, Javier was doing a remarkable job of keeping them steady. Of course, it helped immensely that there was nothing to crash into out here for miles but a cactus or two. The way ahead was smooth and even, so long as he could keep them there.

Max watched the horrid thing gaining on them, ready to snap at their heels a third time. Panic was starting to set in.

But then he got an idea.

"Javier! Pop the trunk!"

"What are you planning, young one?"

"No time! Just do it! And the sunroof too!"

The vampire had confidence in his young companion. He could feel Max's heart beating, feel the strength within the boy. Max knew what he was doing, so Javier obeyed.

As soon as the sunroof started to open, Max shot out his paws, starting to claw his way up through it. Tish was terrified for him, but helped him squeeze up anyway. He did not have to tell her his plan, she already knew that whatever it was, he believed in it. And that was good enough for her too.

Max scrambled out onto the sedan's roof. The desert wind whipped at him, tearing loose scraps of fur and skin. He fought to keep his balance as he pulled himself forward towards the trunk.

The train stared at him. It would have been grinning if it had possessed a mouth. 'What do you think YOU'RE doing, little meat-thing? How can you possibly hope to challenge me?'

Max forced his head up, tears and hot air stinging his eyes, to stare into that sole headlamp.

"Go fuck yourself," he spat.

Bracing himself with his back paws, he reached out to get his fingers underneath the trunk lid. "C'mon, don't snap off..." he begged his digits. But his brittle bones held, and the trunk lid popped up so suddenly and violently, Max lost his grip and tumbled off the roof of the car entirely.

Tish screamed. The memory of watching him die the first time lunged out from inside her mind.

'Minor setback. Nothing serious.' Max was hanging onto the side of the car now, the intense speed making him dangle diagonally like an antenna pennant.

Tish finally saw him and let out a whoosh of relief. She poked her head out the window, wondering why the hell backseat car windows only came down halfway. "Max!"

"Hey sis!" he called back cheerfully.

"Can I help?" she fretted

"No, just relax! I'm gonna try something really stupid and see if it works!"

"Okay!" She watched him claw his way, paw over paw, up the back of the car and slither into the trunk. Her heart felt like it was about to rip itself out of her chest at any second. But she had faith in her brother. His whole life had been a sequence of trying stupid ideas to see if they'd work. And, more times than the law of averages could ever possibly allow for, everything had worked out just fine. Max made the impossible happen, just because he refused to *believe* it was impossible.

The little zombie collapsed in the trunk, landing hard and uncomfortably on top of the remaining explosives. He winced, more out of apprehension than pain. Thankfully, his scrawny body didn't weigh enough to make anything detonate.

He stood up on the edge of the trunk, paws and feet both clinging to the metal edge like steel clamps.

Max closed his eyes.

"Please let this work," he asked the universe. "Please let me be able to save Javier and my sister, and hopefully me too."

A snide little inner voice laughed at him. 'Ha! Your legs are gonna rip right off and be shredded like paper the nanosecond they touch the ground! What the hell are you thinking?'

Max growled. 'Flake off, no-dick. Everything's gonna turn out skippy.' "Javier!!" he shouted at the top of his lungs.

Tish poked her head out again. "He says he can hear you just fine!" she relayed.

"Okay then," Max hollered, "I want you to put the car in neutral on the count of three!"

Javier's eyes got wide with worry. The open trunk lid blocked his vision, so he had no idea what the boy was planning. "Are you sure?"

"Are you sure?!" Tish echoed.

"Completely!!" replied Max, hoping he could fake all the confidence he didn't really feel yet. But this had to work. It had to, right?

The train was breathing down his neck. Black clouds of smoke rose up behind it, along with twin streams of sand. Its tracks vanished mere seconds after they had been created. Heartless, grinding cackles emanated from deep within as it prepared to ram the sedan once more and rid itself of Max for good.

The young coyote steeled himself.

"One!" he shouted.

'This is so fuckin' dumb!'

"Two!!"

'Yeah, but how cool's it gonna be when it actually works?'

"THREE!!!"

Javier wrenched the shift lever down.

Max jumped off the back of the car.

Tish peed a little in her pants.

And Max hit the ground running.

In a blaze of dust, the car shot forward like the engine had just gotten a blast of nitrous oxide. Max's legs became an instantaneous blur. His mind went blank. His only thought was: 'FAST!!!'.

The train saw what was happening but could not believe it. It sputtered, it mewled, it shuddered. Its whistle blared like the shriek of Godzilla, but it could only watch helplessly as its prey actually *pushed* the vehicle ahead of it, far surpassing the train's speed, putting them safely out of danger.

The train roared and screamed and just generally had a hissy fit.

Tish, the wind whipping her hair and ears about wildly, watched the miracle unfolding before her and was struck dumb. 'Holy shit, Max!!' her brain sent out.

'Is it working?' Max sent back.

'Damn straight it's working! Our speed just doubled! Probably tripled! How the hell are you doing this!?'

'I dunno!' he thought gleefully. 'But who cares? It's working, isn't it?'

Tish joined him in raucous laughter.

Having felt the car rocket forward to a safe distance away, and hearing the twins' celebration behind him, Javier finally realized what was going on behind him. His smile drew up in wonder. Max was doing this! How, he had no idea. But it didn't even matter. "Go, young one, go! Vaminos, vaminos!!" he shouted joyfully.

Max heard him loud and clear. He kept running. His legs felt super-strong, like they were made out of titanium, or adamantium. He wasn't running as fast as he had been yesterday, but this was still a pretty damn impressive clip for a twelve-year-old kid. And such speed as this was becoming more and more effortless. He felt like this was what he had been *born* to do. That his legs could just keep on going forever and ever. The train didn't even have a chance.

Javier felt it was time for the first part of his plan to begin. "Tish!"

"Aye-aye, captain!" she shouted.

"You're going to have to take the wheel for a few minutes."

"WHAT!?"

"Don't worry. I'm sure Max is fully in control of our speed. All you need to do is steer. Keep us going straight, that's all."

"So what are you going to do?" Tish asked, leaning over the front seat, her muzzle almost poking his shoulder.

The big bat's eyes drew hard and sharp. "I am going to go annoy the train," he said grimly.

"What does that mean?"

Javier picked up the cluster of incendiary bombs. Moments before, he had strung them together with a long piece of wire like a bunch of grapes. He looped the round little fire-bringers around his neck and held out a winghand to help Tish over the seat, into his place. "Quickly, my little one."

Tish did as she was told, maneuvering clumsily into the passenger seat on top of the silver suitcase. The missile launcher was assembled and ready to go, resting on the floor at her feet.

"Now take the wheel," Javier instructed.

Tish did so, her paws shaking noticeably. Sure, she'd had fantasies before about driving the family car, but certainly not under these conditions!

Javier unlatched the door. He had to pull hard to keep the wind from ripping it straight out of his grip. "Don't worry about me. I will be fine," he told Tish firmly. "All you need to do is keep the car steady. Then I will cause a distraction. You will know it when you see it. As soon as it happens, stop the car, use the emergency brake if you need to, and get the missile launcher. I am sure you will know what to do then, my dear."

He reached up to run a slender, leathery wing-finger along her cheek. "Your heart is very strong, little one, and you are braver than you even know yourself. Show that bravery now. Believe in it. You will not hesitate. You will not worry about me. You will be victorious."

Those powerful, heartfelt words reached deep down inside the small coyote. Like a magic elixir, she could feel them giving her strength. She took her courage in her paws and embraced it. Looking back into Javier's dark eyes, she nodded solemnly.

"Together we will win, young one," Javier told her.

Then, in the blink of an eye, he leaped from the speeding car.

There was a rustle of leather and skin, then his wings caught the wind and held him firm in its tenuous grip. He steeled his gaze, made his heart that of a killer's, and shot straight towards the monstrosity that pursued them.

Tish's heart was thumping like an electrified bullfrog. She fixed her gaze on the view through the window and kept the wheel steady. She couldn't see Max now, which unnerved her. But she could still feel him nearby, so she did her best to hold onto that. She spotted Javier, just a dark, fluttering form in the side rear-view mirror, and wondered what in the hell he was doing.

Max felt something dark whoosh past him. He swiveled his head around backwards and wondered briefly if Javier was deserting them. But no, that was ridiculous; a hell of a lot more impossible than a zombie pushing a car faster than three hundred miles an hour. His heart soared as he realized Javier was going to confront the monster. How kickass was that? A lone bat, flying towards certain doom in the form of a maddened metal gargantua, and yet Max had absolutely no doubt in his mind as to which one of them would prevail.

Javier made himself a bullet.

Wind howled past his flattened-back ears as he used his years of flying skill to shoot forward, straight towards the train, hellbent on giving Tish the chance she would need to destroy it forever.

The train saw the bothersome mortal approaching, floating through the air no less, but it was not concerned. After all, what could this tiny being possibly hope to do to hurt it?

Javier hovered, circling the engine's smug face. "You are very irritating, do you know that?"

In reply, the train blasted out a thick cloud of sick grey smoke and charged at the bat, trying to knock him out of the air.

Javier was much too quick for a clumsy thrust like that. Instead, he turned it to his advantage and let himself fall forward, landing painfully, but in one piece, upon the face of the monster. "Ha-HA!!" the big bat boomed. "Who has caught whom now, you demonic sonofabitch!?!"

Aggravated all to hell, the train whipped back and forth, bucking and thrashing in a futile effort to dislodge its passenger.

Javier's feet were designed by eons of evolution to cling tenaciously to rocks and trees and never, ever let go. The train's little tantrum had absolutely no effect. Javier may as well have been glued in place. He grinned triumphantly. "You will have to do much, much better than that, mi amigo."

Now that he was here, he first had to solve the problem of how he was going to accomplish his diversion. He thought at first it might be possible to smash the engine's windows and toss the bombs in that way, but he was not in a position to accomplish much leverage, and trying such a risky maneuver could leave him dangerously unbalanced. No, there had to be another way.

Harsh winds blasting his back, making his trenchcoat whip wildly about and sting his legs, Javier looked all around, his mind whirring, until his keen eyes spied the open windows on either side of the cabin. He grinned.

On the train's next buck, he allowed himself to be thrown. He was cast off into the welcoming arms of the open air, and his spread wings quickly caught hold.

The train guffawed, thinking, mistakenly, that it had scored a minor victory.

In fact, it was doing exactly what Javier wanted. The swarthy bat dive-bombed the side of the train and pulled up just in time to latch on tight. Though it felt like his feet and thumbclaws were about to be ripped from their sockets, Javier hung on. His face was inches away from the open window now. Perfection.

The meat-creature was back! The train gruffed and snorted and shook back and forth. It was not scared, at least not yet, but it was wary. It sensed that this one was clever, and that maybe it did have something to fear from it after all.

Even as the impossible velocity threatened to tear him off the side of the train and dash him to bits against the rough sand below, Javier withstood the pain and held on. He had to. Victory was already his. He just had to get himself there to seize it.

Carefully, carefully, he unslung the loop of bombs from around his neck and fed them through the window into the empty cabin. Inside, controls and levers were working themselves; a very eerie sight indeed.

With the last of the bombs in his palm, Javier stared down at the fuse. Normally, one would light the end with a match, or cigarette lighter, and hurl it as far away as possible. Javier had neither of these things, but he did have his own special gifts.

He made his mind a blank. Shrank his universe down to one little piece of black filament.

He thought: 'Fire'.

And there it was.

The fuse sparked and caught, the flame taking hold with a vengeance and chewing its way eagerly towards the bomb. Javier allowed himself a proud smile. An easy trick, but certainly a useful one.

Of course, now it would be a good idea for *him* to get as far away as possible.

The train was as unaware of its newly-acquired surprise as any living furson would notice a single dust-mote landing on their sleeve.

Javier allowed himself to be thrown off once again, but was unprepared for how forceful the train jerked this time. His wings failed him. He went tumbling through the air in a ball of black fur.

Max saw this and he screamed in panic. "No! Come on, Javier! You can do it! Fly, dammit, fly!!"

As far apart as they were, Javier still heard the boy's cry, and smiled to himself. He knew he was in no real danger anyway. A fumble such as this was easy to pull out of. But it still felt good to know the boy was cheering him on.

Javier spread his mighty wings and righted himself. He fluttered back, getting a good distance away, but kept his eyes on the train. Soon. Soon, Tish would have her distraction, and he knew she would pounce upon it like a good little predator.

"Get ready, young one..." he whispered to her, feeding her his faith. He was ready.

Tish was keeping everything steady. Glancing back every few seconds or so between the windshield and the mirror. She was ready.

Max wasn't sure exactly what, but he could feel something coming too. He was ready.

The train, alas, was not.

Flame suddenly erupted from its brain like a million billion bees had all stabbed their stingers into its mind at once. It screeched in agony and disbelief. Its cabin erupted in red-hot fire, sending flames shooting up into the air all around. It bucked and jumped and howled and tossed itself about in mindless panic, desperate to get away from the great red pain in its head.

Max's eyes lit up with fire as he laughed his wildly wagging tail off. Bizarrely, the train almost looked like it was wearing a great big orange clown wig now.

This was it. Tish heard the explosion ripple through the ground, through the wheels, up the steering column and into her paws. She saw the blaze in the rear-view mirror and slammed on the brakes, knowing that Javier had succeeded.

Max was not prepared for the abrupt stop and went crashing into the trunk lid, breaking at least thirty percent of his bones in the process and making his brains squirt out of his ears like ham spread.

"Ow! Shit!" he shouted, landing wetly on the pile of explosives below him and dripping all over them. "No problem!"

The car spun around in two-and-a-half perfect donuts, ending up facing the train head on as it lumbered, screaming, towards them.

Tish was up like a shot, grabbing the missile launcher and thrusting it up through the sunr-

*thunk*

"Oh fuck!!"

'don't panic, don't panic, don't panic,' she told herself. It wasn't stuck, she'd just tried to shove it through at the wrong angle. Nothing to worry about. Plenty of time left before the flaming train smashed into her and turned her and her brother into thick pink goo. Nothing to worry about at all.

Desperately trying to keep herself calm, Tish slowly backed the launcher up, then eased it carefully through the hole in the roof. Smooth sailing this time. She let out a puff of relief.

The train was barrelling at her wildly, unseeing, reeling in its pain. It shrieked and jerked and twisted itself hideously. Its mind had transformed into one single all-encompassing thought: Must Escape Pain.

Max was busy reshaping his skull and torso. Once most of his face was back in business, he looked up and saw his nemesis drawing perilously nearer. But he also saw his sister, cool as a cucumber, raise the missile launcher to her shoulder.

Tish looked through the crosshairs at the yowling red behemoth. All she had to do now was pull the trigger.

Time seemed to slow down as she spoke the words she had rehearsed in her mind for many nights now, over and over again:

"My name is Tish Lopez. You killed my brother. Prepare to die."

She squeezed the trigger like crushing a bug in her fist.

*FFFWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSHHH*!!!

For a first-timer, Tish's shot was actually pretty good. The recoil did knock her straight off the side of the car and into the dust below, and her trajectory was quite a ways off, but the whole point of a heat-seeking missile is that it does all the hard work for you.

Max was most of the way back together now. Tish scrambled to hoist herself up onto the roof again and the two siblings watched silently as the shiny arrow of death twisted in the air and made a beeline for their enemy.

Javier grinned.

Then, the whole world blew up.

The explosion was so loud, it wasn't even noise; just a shockwave that made the ground shake like jello. It knocked Javier straight out of the sky to land on his ass. Max and Tish were both blown backwards off of the car like paper dolls.

The light from the explosion was so bright it made the fire before look like a fourth of july sparkler. The train simply became a humongous red flower, blossoming up towards the heavens.

Shrapnel flew in every direction and sent skids of sand up into the air wherever it struck.

Javier was momentarily deafened, so he couldn't hear his own jubilant laughter.

A baker's dozen extra booms and bangs went off before the train was completely still. Flames danced crazily over the blackened husk of wreckage that remained. It was like the whole top half of the engine had been sliced away by a titanic knife.

Lumps of fiery metal crashed down all around them like meteorites.

Tish and Max gingerly peeked out from behind the car to see what they had done.

The train was dead. No question about it. It looked like the one burger at every cookout that gets left on the grill too long. Javier was off to the side, rolling on the ground and whooping in delight.

Slowly, the twins looked at each other.

Max gave his sister a gigantic grin.

He pounced her like a kitten with a ball of string, wrapping her up in a massive hug. "You did it, Tish! You did it! You saved our butts! Holy crap-in-a-basket! You did it!"

Tish sang out laughter and hugged her wonderful brother right back. "I did it! Oh Max, we're safe now! I did it! WE did it!!"

Max locked eyes with her, smiling warmly, out of breath. "You're the best sister ever, Tish," he told her.

"And you're the best brother," she replied, giving his nose a 'beep'.

Mad giggling sounds were approaching. The twins looked up to see Javier, limping a bit but still in one piece, coming towards them. "Excellent shooting, Young Miss!!" he bellowed heartily, then descended again into fits of merriment.

"Thanks!" she called back. The two coyote cubs got up and ran towards the bedraggled bat, adding him to their hug.

Javier dropped weakly to his knees and embraced the cubs in his wings. "I am so proud of you both! There are not words! You are warriors now, little ones. You have vanquished evil. How does it feel?"

"Pretty damn good," Tish assessed, and Max nodded.

"Welcome to what I do for a living," he told them with a chuckle.

Max perked up. "Hey, um, once all this is over, I mean, once we figure out what we're gonna do about me still being dead 'n all, do you think you might have an opening ready for an apprentice?"

Javier arched an eyebrow. He stroked his chinfur foxily. "Hmmm... No, I do not think so."

The twins felt a small dip of disappointment.

"...I think I have room for *two* apprentices!" the big bat clarified, and hugged them both again. Max and Tish giggled joyfully and hugged him back.

And then the train growled at them.


	~***~


-CHAPTER FIFTY NINE-

The three furs turned, in shock, and looked with horror on their faces at the unholy scene before them.

There was something none of them knew about bewitched objects. Something Thanatos had forgotten to tell them, and something he would later deeply regret not telling them. It was this: if you are going to try to dispose of a bewitched object, one must never, EVER do the job halfway. The object must be dealt with in one fell swoop, or not at all.

For like a wounded animal, if you merely injure them, they become twice as mean as before.

The train was now a black, crusted slab of creaking, screeching metal. Most of its wheels were fused together, but not all of them. Its top half had been sheared to shreds, and now it was using that to its advantage. The shreds had curled and curved around into leg-like projections. Just like Max, it was rebuilding itself. Only it had a new image in mind now.

What was slowly wrenching itself back to life before their eyes looked terrifyingly like a two-ton, black-and-silver metal spider.

It rose up on its chaotic collection of unfinished legs to look at them, and hissed.

"Oh, we are fucked," muttered Tish.

Even Javier was at a loss.

But inside Max, a burning streak of anger was being rekindled. The same powerful force he had felt inside of him the day before, when he had run faster than he ever would again in his life, was inhabiting him anew. He felt the same emotion as when he'd realized that Nick should not have had to be a part of this insanity. And now he knew; Javier and Tish should not either.

"We gotta get back to the car," he said, hard and low.

They followed him.

Keeping their eyes on the still-rebirthing horror before them, knowing it would be ready to chase and kill them any moment now, the trio backed up towards their vehicle. Nice and slow.

"Javier," Max whispered, "did you see anything in the trunk like a bag? A backpack, or any kind of container like that?"

"A duffel bag," the vampire remembered. "Jeff brought it."

"Cool. That's good. When we get there, I want you and Tish to put all the other explosives in it."

"What're you gonna do, Max?" Tish asked. But he was her brother, and she thought she already knew.

"I'm bait, remember?" he said.

The train heaved and squirmed obscenely. Eating itself, digesting itself and rebuilding itself with what it had eaten.

They reached the car. Tish peripherally noticed that the whole front end was now riddled with shrapnel. That of course meant that Dad was going to kill them all when they got home.

_If_ they got home, she corrected herself.

Javier rooted out the duffel bag. He held it open and motioned for Tish to start filling it. Her small paws were better suited to this task than his bulky wings.

Max kept his gaze on the monster, never wavering.

"Almost done?" he asked Tish.

"Almost..." The bag was bulging. She couldn't fit everything in, but she thought she'd done an okay job of choosing the most deadly-looking bits of the bunch. Any more now and she wouldn't be able to close it. "Okay, it's ready."

"Zip it up and put it on me," said Max, reaching out his arms behind him to accept the straps of the bag.

Something in Tish's heart broke. She understood fully now. "No..." she whimpered, her eyes beginning to tear up. Just when they thought they'd won...

"I gotta," her brother said softly in resignation. "I have to save your lives. It wouldn't be fair for me to just let us all die."

Javier came closer and threaded Max's thin arms through the duffel straps. He leaned in close to whisper in the boy's ear. "I have never, in all my years, met anyone so brave as you, Young Master Max. Go. Do what you must. See the angel down the road, and take the sword that is rightfully yours."

Max nodded. "I will."

Turning away from the train for the first time, he looked back into his sister's tearful eyes.

"Goodbye, Max," she said, her arms wrapped around herself and shivering.

He forced himself not to cry too. He even, through sheer force of will, managed a little smile. "Not goodbye, sis. Just, 'I'll see you later'."

Tish nodded, remembering what Croak had told them the night before. "I'll see you later too."

Javier patted him on the back. "You still have the vial?"

"Yup," said Max.

"Use it." he said. "And good luck, young one. Do not die unless you have to."

"Roger that."

Max turned back, staring at the spider-thing the train had become. It was standing tall now. It looked ready.

It took a shaky step towards them.

Then a more confident one.

Shouldering his highly combustible makeshift backpack, Max took in a deep breath, felt it whistle through his dry, tired body, and strode towards his final fight.


	~***~


-CHAPTER SIXTY-

It stared at the prey.

It had lost most of what passed for its growing mind, but that didn't matter now. The prey approached, head down, accepting its fate. It was giving itself up to save the other meat-beings. How touching.

Though of course, that didn't matter. As soon as it had eliminated the stubborn little impediment, it would go back for the others and crush the life out of them as well. And then it would return to the house they had come from and dispose of every living thing it found there. And then it would have a delightful time in town, showing every mortal it caught just how very much it disliked their weak and filthy kind. By day's end, it would be covered in thick red gummy blood. Sweet blood. And its rampage would have only just begun.

The former train, now an insectile nightmare beyond any sane mind's description, rose up to its full height to look down upon the nearing boy.

Max looked up at it. He could feel his heart beating. It didn't need to, but he wanted it to anyway. He wanted to feel it now. Maybe because this would be the last time he'd ever get the chance.

For several moments, the two combatants were silent and still. Each waiting for the other to make a first move, or to decide how this last clash would begin.

And then, Max got another one of his really, really good ideas.

A grin spread across his face like dawn sunshine.

It wouldn't end here. Not yet at least. And maybe this even meant he had a tiny, infinitesimal, million-to-one chance to still be in existence when it was all over with. Who said he had to walk up and detonate himself? There were other ways of winning after all...

"Sorry, you lame-ass buttsucker," he told his foe. "You're gonna have to chase me again."

He stood straight up, feeling himself fill with every last spark of energy he could gather. For a heartbeat, he seemed to actually glow.

His foot came down...

...And he was gone.

WWHHHHHHHOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRNNNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The sound was pure suffering. The train-beast's ear-bleeding cry translated loosely as, 'NOT AGAIN!!!'

Tish and Javier watched a little boy-sized cloud of dust speed off across the desert in the direction they had driven from. They felt a tiny bit of hope, and held each other closer.

Max's feet pounded good and hard on the rough sand below. It was a great feeling. Even better than running on asphalt. He was made to run like this, out here in the desert. He had no idea why, and did not even think to ask. This was his gift. It was now that he finally realized how he could use it to get rid of that fucking train once and for all.

His eyes were closed serenely. He simply *knew* which direction to run.

The train lurched after him, clanking across the desert sand like something from a bad dream that would make H. R. Giger piss his pajamas. If there was a single word to describe it; its bulbous, streamlined arachnid shape, the gangly way it moved, its uneven legs all churning at a different pace, that word would be 'unholy'.

The sounds it made drove every living thing for miles completely mad. Birds dropped out of the sky. Lizards convulsed on the ground. Coyotes ran in circles. Even the cacti shivered. It was like the entire world understood that something fundamentally *wrong* had been spawned here, and was now on the loose with nothing to control it.

Max could hear its wheezing, drilling, venom-filled howls, but paid them no mind. It was just the same old crap all over again; 'You damn meat-thing! I'll get you! I'm so pissed off! Blah blah blah!' The fact that he was actually beginning to understand what it was saying didn't register. And if it had, Max still probably wouldn't have been as deeply disturbed by it as he should have been.

Instead, he kept running.

There were still miles and miles to go before he reached the point he was shooting for, but that barely mattered. He could run forever and ever if he had to. He knew that as deeply as he knew that the sky was blue and the grass was green (Except over by the toolshed where he'd puked so much it had all gone yellow).

But that was beside the point. What mattered now was something he'd seen out the car window earlier. He had seen rock formations and mountains and cliffs. Cliffs. In fact, he had seen one big mutha cliff back there that, judging by what the landscape looked like beyond it, must have had one hell of a drop. That was exactly what he was hoping for.

Behind him, the train-beast thundered. Each one of its chaotic footsteps shook the earth.

*THUD*
*CLANK*
*SMASH*
*THWACK*
*THUD*
*SLAM*
*CRASH*

There was no pattern to its gait, only a hellish speed that defied explanation. Max was sprinting along at a leisurely 257 MPH, and the charred spidery bogeyman was gaining on him.

Max could feel it coming closer, but would not let himself worry. He increased his speed a bit. Slowly, carefully. 'No need to rush,' he thought to himself with a laugh.

He opened his eyes and could see the cliff in the distance. Much closer than he'd expected. He could feel the weight of his explosive cargo on his back, but as far as hindering his speed it might as well have been a feather. Max could not reach into his pants pocket now; his legs were moving so fast he was sure his hand would be ripped straight off if he so much as tried, but he could feel the little bulge of Jeff's golden vial nonetheless. He hoped he'd get the chance later on to tell the geeky ferret whether it or the explosives had had the greater effect.

The train-beast could sense the cliff up ahead, and realized its prey's plan. It scoffed. How completely ineffective! It knew it could fall from a thousand cliffs in a row and just reshape itself again after every impact. And if the prey though he was going to dart out of the way in time and have his nemesis stumble clumsily over the edge, then the prey had no idea of just how powerful this new body really was. In retrospect, they had done it a *favor* by blowing it up! They had freed it to construct its own new form. One which was much, much more efficient for hunting and stalking and killing its hated prey.

It would catch up and, cliff or not, it would taste the boy's insides and laugh at his screams.

Dimly, in the back of his mind, Max could *feel* it thinking these things. As they came closer and closer to mutual annihilation, they were also coming closer together in their minds. Max just prayed the train couldn't read him yet too. But if the gnarled, base thoughts he was receiving were correct, than he knew he had nothing to worry about. Javier had warned him against overconfidence, and now he was seeing firsthand why it was such a dangerous thing. You had to work for your victories, he knew. Just expecting everything to turn out your way wasn't enough. You had to help fate along, help it give you what you wanted. Believing victory was yours was only half the fight. The angel would not hand you the sword; you had to take it from her.

Max looked out across the cliff and thought he really could see an angel there, watching him, cheering him on.

Worried for a second he might be hallucinating, he blinked and looked again, and saw it really was an angel after all.

The angel of death.

Suspended hundreds of feet above the ground, clouds passing through their transparent forms, Thanatos and Croak were observing his last run. Croak was going nuts, waving his arms about wildly and shouting encouragements Max could not hear. But the Lord of Death was merely grinning that strange feline grin of his.

The edge of the cliff was only a hundred yards away now. Max could see that it would most definitely be a fatal fall all the way to the bottom.

And then Thanatos' voice was in his head. 'Don't you dare think I'm here to collect your soul, boy. You still have much to do right here on Earth.'

Max laughed. 'Heck, I wouldn't let you take me if you tried!'

The Lord of the Dead smiled proudly.

The train roared like an electric power plant exploding. It reared up, ready to pounce, ready to follow the prey over the cliff if it had to. Anything, ANYTHING, so long as it could finally end the chase and feel the prey's body crush beneath its sharp metal jaws and feel that final moment of horror when the weak meat-creature finally realized who had truly and forever won.

Max stopped short right at the edge of the cliff. His skidding paws sent a small cloud of red dust over the edge, down, down, down, a hundred feet below.

He turned around to face his tormentor, the wind whipping through his fur. "Come and get me, fuckball! I'm waaaaiting!!"

The train-beast screeched in insectile triumph and pounced.

Max took one step backwards into nothingness.

And as he did, he reached up and grabbed ahold of his head, wrenching it off his neck with ease.

The train realized its prey's plan too late.

Max blew a raspberry at it.

And just as he had thrown his sister to safety before, he hurled himself, with all his might, to victory.

The train-beast reeled and thrashed, shrieking shrilly, but its forward momentum was too great. It could not halt its fall, and soon there was nothing below it but unforgiving air and a canyon of jagged rocks below.

Thanatos laughed and laughed.

'It doesn't matter!' the train thought desperately. It could just pick itself up after the crash, pull itself back together and go after the boy again. It wasn't over! Nothing was over! This was just a temporary setback! In the end, it would prevail, because it had to! It just HAD to!

Mere seconds before impact, the beast looked down and saw that Max's headless body was holding something in its left hand. A vial, containing some kind of yellow liquid.

Its right hand was giving it the finger.

The train did not have time to comprehend the significance of this gesture.


	~***~


-CHAPTER SIXTY ONE-

The impact was simply beyond comprehension.

Max's limp little zombie body struck first and bounced, and it wasn't until the twitching, squirming spider-like-thing crashed into it that the real fireworks began.

If the missile strike had made the incendiary bombs' explosion look like a sparkler, then the combined result of everything in the duffel bag (including Jeff's homemade Blood Bath Bitch-o-rama) detonating all at once was like the fiery vengeance of God.

A vertical plume of white flame sheared up into the sky, higher than a skyscraper. The earth shook for miles around. At least a hundred other smaller explosions shouted and burst and colored the morning on their own, as if in celebration of finally fulfilling their purpose.

The holy liquid in the vial did its job too. A nimbus of blue-white lightning erupted in a circular path from the crash site, looking a lot like a sun going supernova, and blasted the everfucking shit out of the train-beast's burgeoning consciousness.

The earthquake rumbled up the side of the cliff and great huge chunks of rock began to splinter off and come crashing down into the still-blazing inferno below. Huge earth-torpedoes came loose and dropped down upon the carnage like megaton icicles. Later on, after everything had quieted down, a curious archaeologist would look up at the newly altered cliff face and catch a glimpse of the mostly-complete skeleton of an entirely new species of dinosaur. But that is another story entirely.

The booms and bangs continued on for what felt like forever. Impact upon impact upon impact. Blast after blast after blast. The explosions walked and talked and danced their groovy dance for all to see.

When it was all finally over, the largest surviving piece of the train could have easily been balanced on the tip of a young child's pinky. And all the remaining fragments were now buried under a hundred tons of crumbled rock.

In short, it really did work this time.


	~***~


-CHAPTER SIXTY TWO-

Javier, with Tish in the passenger seat, drove maniacally up to the edge of the cliff, not daring to hope, but also not daring to *not* hope.

The car was, to put it mildly, fucked-up. Aside from the dozens of little pock marks and slashes across the grille and hood where it had met the shrapnel, it had simply been driven half to death. It hadn't entirely given up the ghost yet though. It would get them home safely, but just barely.

Javier stopped the car. He and Tish got out.

The air was finally still. The explosions had gone on for nearly five whole minutes, and even from up above they had been loud enough to rattle the glass and make the car's two occupants bobble around in their seats.

But now it was over. It seemed impossible that anything of either Max or the train could possibly have survived an armageddon like that.

Tish's tail was tucked between her legs. She toddled towards the cliff face, just enough to peek over and see the edge of the burning black scorchmark below that stretched out for hundreds of feet in all directions.

Javier came close and put a winghand on her shoulder.

They were silent.

After a long time, Tish raised her paw to dry her eyes. She looked out across the rusty land and the blazing blue sky above. "You did it, Max. You saved us. But I really wish you hadn't blown your own dumb ass up too. Now I'm gonna be sad all over again. Thanks a lot." Her sobs betrayed her sarcastic words, and soon she was shuddering in Javier's gentle embrace.

"Nnnrf!"

"What the heck was that?" Tish asked, her ears perking up. No way... It couldn't be... But it HAD to be!

Javier came dangerously close to the edge of the cliff (like it would matter any if he fell off), and cast his eyes and ears about.

"Mmrrr! Fft rr nnnm!"

The big bat's face lit up with joy. "He's alive!!!"

Just barely though.

Max, or rather what was left of him, had been lucky enough to roll down to a small outcropping that had somehow survived being shaken loose by the blast. Still, he wasn't about to believe he was in the clear just yet. He was holding on to a jutting ridge of stone with his teeth and he wasn't about to let go for anything.

"Yrff!" he shouted to them. Finally, they'd shown up! "Rrff nn mmgh mrr nm rrrrrr!!" he shouted. He'd started to think he might end up spending forever hanging here, or at least until the crows got him.

Tish was jumping up and down and freaking out in total relief and complete jubilation. Javier lunged off the cliff, spread his wings and soared in like an eagle. With perfect timing and skill, his nimble footclaws clasped Max's head and airlifted him to safety.

"Thanks!" Max spat a few times. "That rock tasted like crap!"

Javier laughed and tossed the little coyote head to Tish like a basketball. She caught him gracefully and hugged him so hard he thought he'd pop.

"MaxOhMyGodIThoughtYouWereReallyDeadForRealThisTimeI'mSoHappyILoveYouSoMuchMax You'reSoFuckingBraveICan'tBelieveItThatWasTheCoolestGoddamThingI'veEverSEEN!!!" She poured out her love at a million miles a minute, nuzzling her zombie brother's head and covered him in kisses.

Max just chuckled and waited for it to be over so he could get a word in edgewise.

Javier made a flawless landing and came over to check on Max's current condition. "You're just a head!" he stated. A bit redundant, but under the circumstances it could be forgiven.

"That's right," Max replied. "And it feels really weird! I can't feel my tail, my arms or legs, my butt, my thingy, my *anything*! I'm seriously freaked out here."

"But you're still alive, that's what's important!" Tish reminded him. "And you can just grow everything back, right? Right?"

Max shrugged, or tried to without the use of shoulders. "I hope so. Though we should probably stop at Dooley's again on the way home."

"Dooley's!?" Javier snorted incredulously. "You, Young Master Max, are a hero. And heroes do not eat merely hamburgers! We shall stop at every food market we see along the way and I shall fill you with so much fine steak and other rare cuts that you will weigh as much as a small planet by the time we reach home!"

Max laughed out loud. "Cool! Thanks, Javier! That'd be great!"

The big bat reached out and gently took Max from Tish's hands. He held the boy up high and let him see over the cliff at the ultimate destruction below. "Look, young one, upon your victory. We have truly triumphed this time, I have no doubt in my heart. We have won. *You* have won. And you have done so in an amazingly creative way! Whatever possessed you to come up with such an idea?"

Max smiled modestly. "I dunno."

Javier smiled too. "Sometimes the greatest strategy is the one we think of at the last second. Maybe the knowledge that we are mere moments from oblivion gives our minds the motivation to be at their best. Regardless, you, my bodiless friend, are a genius."

Max chuckled.

"I think so too," Tish insisted, and gave him a friendly little noogie.

Javier handed Max back to Tish, who recoiled a little when his flesh touched her. "Ouch!"

"What's wrong?" Javier asked.

Tish very carefully turned her brother's head upside down. They could both see the familiar green foam already beginning to blossom from his severed neck.

"Oh, cool!" she said. "I think you're gonna be just fine, Max."

"I hope so," he replied. "Now could you turn me back rightside-up? All the blood's rushing to my... Well, you know."

Tish laughed and spun Max's noggin around to give him another nuzzle between his ears.

Together, the trio walked back to the car to begin the long drive home.

As Javier had prayed for, three had gone out, and three would come back.

For now, it was over.


	~***~


-CHAPTER SIXTY THREE-

Four extremely worried fursons sat on the porch of the tall house up on the hill, all waiting and fretting and not speaking a word.

Hours had passed. None of them had any idea of when to expect the others home, or even when it would become late enough that hope should be abandoned.

But then, much sooner than any of them had anticipated, they looked out at the town below and saw a battle-scarred black sedan slowly, painfully limping its way home.

Great whoops of joy filled the air.

As the car pulled into the driveway, it was immediately surrounded by love. When the doors opened, Javier, Tish and Max were all instantly swallowed up in a sea of hugs.

Laughter exploded like fireworks and tears fell like rain. Carlos and Martina held and cuddled their precious cubs with all their hearts. Nick cried copiously and nuzzled his two best friends. And Jeff gave Javier a full-on kiss on the lips without even realizing it.

There was so much relieved celebration going on, no one noticed for quite awhile that Max's lower body was completely missing.

Martina let out a little yelp when her paw suddenly wrapped around a thick, pink loop of coyote intestine. She jerked back and saw that Max appeared to have had a bad run-in with a table saw. But at least he'd been well fed beforehand, since his stomach was absolutely bulbous.

With another of his effortless grins, Max told her there'd be plenty of time to tell their tale when everyone was inside.

His mother forced down her quease and replaced it with more of her joy at seeing both her babies return alive, if not entirely unscathed.

The victorious trio were given a hero's parade back into the house. Javier lifted Max up onto his shoulders and Carlos did the same for Tish. Their hearty hurrahs carried far down the hillside to anyone who cared to hear.

Once inside, Carlos gently let Tish down and hung back while the others went into the livingroom. He snapped his fingers softly to get Javier's attention, then motioned his best friend closer.

Javier approached, his face a curious pout.

Carlos simply pointed outside, at the dying heap of scrap that had once been his pride and joy. "I am very grateful to you for protecting my children, but do you think you might have also been able to spare my car as well?"

The big bat just chuckled. "Sorry about that, my friend. Casualties of war."

The coyote sighed sadly, and nodded.

Javier got a glint in his eye. "My friend, close your eyes. And count to ten..."

A surge of hope filled Carlos' heart. He eagerly squinched his eyes shut, and counted out loud, like a small boy.

He heard not a sound until Javier said, "Open them."

When he looked, the car was in just as bad a condition as it had ever been.

Carlos cast hurt, uncomprehending eyes at his friend.

Javier shrugged playfully. "Eh, my magic is not quite so far advanced as that. Although I do know a very good mechanic who will give you a very big discount because of me," he said hopefully.

Carlos rolled his eyes. Audibly.


	~***~


-CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR-

Thanatos finally put in an appearance at 11 o' clock sharp that evening.

Nick had gone home several hours previous, but not before gathering with the others in the livingroom to hear Max, Tish and Javier speak vividly of their adventures. Hearts pounded and tails frizzed up. Max provided many amusing sound effects. It was a little weird for Nick to watch Max flopping about the room and talking rapidly with his legs still sluggishly reforming and trails of green foam spreading all over the carpet, but when you're best friends with someone, you tend to overlook their various little peculiarities.

There was an improvised party afterwards, to celebrate their freedom from the terror of the train. Martina procured big bowls of snacks from the kitchen and put on some loud, festive party music. Everyone danced their good fortune and joy, and when Max was finally all back together again (and had put some pants on) he joined in enthusiastically. No one was at all surprised to discover that Jeff was very, very good at limbo.

After the sun had gone down and many hugs had been exchanged, Nick hopped back on his bike. He hadn't been home in two days; going back there after experiencing so many fantastical adventures seemed almost more surreal than the adventures themselves. Still, reality has its benefits, and his own soft bed was one of them. (That, and earlier that morning he'd come within seconds of putting on a pair of Tish's panties before realizing with horror what bedroom he was actually in.)

Max and Tish waved goodbye to their cheetah friend as he pedaled off down the hill and gradually vanished into the cool, gentle darkness of the summer night.

Much later, when bedtimes were already past, the Lopezes were readying themselves for a welcome sleep after such a long and nerve-wracking day. Just before Javier was to turn in, he remembered that Jeff had gone out quite a while ago to put what remained of the explosives back in his car, and had never come back.

When he peeked out the porch, he saw Jeff's little blue hatchback with its front door open, the dome light on, and its owner sprawled unconscious inside.

Upon closer inspection they found the ferret draped half-over the front seat, snoring away, in a sleeping position so cringe-inducing Tish felt sure she would've preferred the wheelbarrow out in the shed. Javier quietly shut the door and told the Lopezes there was nothing to worry about. Jeff was not only a heavy sleeper, he was an abrupt one as well. They all felt kinda weird about just leaving him like that for the night, but Javier assured them it was perfectly normal. Jeff wouldn't care a whit when he woke up, so long as he was swiftly provided with coffee.

When they all returned to the house, they found two spirits sitting on their couch waiting for them.

Actually, 'sitting' is not entirely accurate. Since Thanatos and Croak had no tangible forms in this realm, they merely hovered in the air and only appeared to be seated. They'd both gotten quite good at the illusions of standing, lying down and walking too.

Roils of thick white fog spewed silently from beneath the Lord of the Dead's grand purple robe, looking quite eerie in the lightless room.

"Well done, little zombie," he said quietly.

"Um, thank you, sir," Max replied, a bit startled by their sudden presence. Then he grinned, remembering something he'd been meaning to ask Thanatos for a while now. "Say, do you by any chance have a chauffeur named Charon?"

The Lord of the Dead groaned. "Ugh. Points for knowing your mythology, but none for originality. I've heard a thousand and one variations on THAT one."

Croak giggled nonetheless.

Carlos and Martina both looked spooked as hell. Tish stepped out in front of them and made the introductions. "Mom, Dad, this is Thanatos. He rounds up dead people. And the little guy is Croak; his assistant."

"How do you do," Croak said gentlemanly, giving them a salute-like flick of his long tail.

"You're not here to 'collect' Max, are you?" Martina worried.

Thanatos stood up, the ends of his gravity-ignoring hairdo nearly brushing the ceiling. A small grin, sly but not malicious, was on his ivory feline face. "Far from it, Mrs. Lopez. In fact, your extraordinary son finds himself in the rare position of being owed a favor from me. I mean none of you any harm."

Martina and Carlos exchanged quick glances of relief. They held paws, unnerved but trying not to show it in the face of a seven-foot-tall semitransparent specter in their livingroom.

Thanatos began to pace thoughtfully. "I'm sorry it took me so long to arrive. I am a busy man, and so long as stupid people have the capacity to do themselves in and then not realize it, I shall always remain busy. Though Max's case is special. Due to a blunder in my office, your son was put in the unfortunate situation of having to destroy a nearly undestroyable extermination machine before it destroyed him. A task I would have surely taken on myself were it not for the fact that I have no power over anything in this material realm."

Croak got up and dutifully illustrated this point by passing various parts of himself through the furniture.

"Thank you, Croak," said Thanatos.

The little squirrel nodded smartly.

"Anyway," the Lord of the Dead continued, "to put it bluntly, your son was forced by circumstance to clean up a mess that was entirely mine. For that, I am both grateful and ashamed."

Tish, Max and Javier all looked a little surprised at that. The Thanatos they were seeing now was much humbler than the one they'd met before.

As if hearing their thoughts, he explained. "Normally I would not go so far out of my way to make restitution. By nature, I am not the most forgiving being in all existence. But as someone who hates inefficiency, sloppiness and most of all, laziness, I would be a hypocrite and a fool not to try and set things right."

"I kinda told him he had to," Croak spilled.

Thanatos narrowed his eyes murderously at his assistant, but could not really be angry with him. After all, one of the biggest reasons he appreciated the boy was for his role in providing him with a conscience when his own one slipped.

Croak smiled innocently. Thanatos eventually smiled, genuinely, back.

Javier did not entirely trust Thanatos' altruistic disposition. "So, you have come just to tell young Max, 'Thanks for doing my dirty work'?"

The white cat scowled. "No. And if you'd let me finish, you would already know that."

Javier mock-yawned. "Sorry, I got tired from waiting."

Tish bit her lip to keep from giggling.

Thanatos let out an exasperated grunt. "I dearly hope you find yourself still stuck on this Earthly plane after you perish, Mr. Villareal. It will be my great pleasure to drag you down to the abyss by your ear like a toddler."

"At least you will have plenty to grip," the big bat said cheerfully.

This time, both Tish and Max had to bite their lips. So did Croak.

Thanatos made the kind of sour expression that only a cat can when they find their dignity being assaulted. "MY POINT IS," he rumbled, "that I have taken time out from my incomprehensibly busy schedule to give the boy a gift, and some unfortunate news as well."

Max became alert. "'Unfortunate'?"

Thanatos nodded, and his face became deathly serious. "Yes. You see, the train will eventually come back."

"WHAT?!?" Tish and Max bellowed in unison.

"We went through all that crap for *nothing*!?" Tish exploded.

"Max _still_ isn't safe!?" Carlos roared.

Javier gave Thanatos a look of pure iced fire.

Thanatos sighed unhappily. This was not going at all well. He cast a glance at Croak, hoping for help, but the little squirrel only shook his head. "You broke it, you bought it, Boss," the boy uttered reproachfully.

Damn. As if he didn't *already* hate trying to explain things to mortals.

Seeing though that all of Max's fur was standing on end and he looked as if someone had just stepped on his pet frog, Thanatos' better nature got the better of him. This *was* his fault, and consequently, it was his responsibility to fix.

He came closer, knelt, and appeared to put a paw on the young undead's shoulder, though of course Max couldn't feel a thing. "Max, please listen carefully," he said, as gently as he could.

Max took a deep breath and shrugged off his shivers. "Okay, what?"

"I do not mean that the train will reappear tomorrow, or even the day after that. But you must understand, the whole point of a bewitched object's existence is to fulfill its purpose. Trying to stop it from doing so would be like me asking you to stop being Max."

"So, all we did was slow it down," the little zombie said glumly, his ears drooping.

"Well, you did slow it down quite a bit, admittedly," Thanatos replied, trying his best to smile warmly. "But the 'magic', as you would call it, that we in the Beyond use is more powerful than you could ever dream. When we want something done, it _will_ be done, and no force on earth can counteract it. The train will eventually reform itself and come back again someday.

"But take heart. It will have to reassemble itself from millions of pieces, some so small they can not even be seen with the naked eye. It will have to pull itself together through a thousand tons of rock. If, like you said, you've only slowed it down, then you've slowed it down by a decade! At *least*!"

Max shrugged. "Well that's something, I guess."

The feline's tone grew fierce with importance. "Listen to me, Max. What you and your sister and your large, sweaty, flying friend have done is nothing short of miraculous. I doubt even *I* could have come up with a plan as daring and remarkable as yours."

That did make him feel a little better. Especially coming from such a gigantic ego.

"Simply put," said Thanatos, "the train will return to life again and again, no matter what you do, so long as you exist."

Tish gulped for air. "Dammit, I TOLD you I wasn't gonna let you take Max away!!" she shouted ferociously.

Thanatos gave her a long-suffering smile. "No one ever lets me finish. Though I admit I do have a bit of a flair for the dramatic. What I should have said was, 'so long as you exist ...In This Form'."

"But what does that mean?" asked Carlos.

Thanatos stood up to meet the father's gaze. "It means," he said, "that I am offering your son the chance to Change." He looked down at Max again. "Tell me, when a fox is being pursued by hounds, how does he shake them off his trail?"

Max blinked, puzzled by the apparent non-sequitur. "Uh... He jumps in the river, if there's one nearby. Or he runs across some rocks."

Thanatos grinned. "And why, exactly, does he do this?"

"To hide his scent," Max answered.

Thanatos grinned even more. "_Exactly_."

Croak came closer. "So long as the train can 'smell' you, it'll try to come back. So what we have to do now is change your scent."

A flutter of comprehension sparked inside Max's mind. "Do you mean..."

Tish heard his thought and finished it for him. "...You could bring him back to life again?"

Thanatos smiled modestly. "Well, I AM the Lord of the Dead, after all."

Max let out an unrestrained yodel of joy and he and Tish flung themselves at each other in a giddy hug. "Oh WOW! Finally, I won't have to worry about stuff falling off of me anymore!" he shouted.

"And no more roadkill buffet!" she added.

"And I won't stink so much either!"

Tish pouted. "Aw, and I was starting to like your smell!"

Max gave her a little shove. "You're weird!" They both giggled like idiots.

Martina and Carlos also embraced their son. All of them had felt a dim but tenacious hope in their heart that somewhere at the end of this long, long journey, Max would be able to return to his former self. They had all held on to this belief, and somehow knew this moment would eventually come.

Javier was still a bit suspicious though. "How?" he asked pointedly. "I have seen many, many fursons come back from the dead, but never all the way. I have thought until now that it could not be done. So, how do you intend to perform the impossible for Max?"

Thanatos gave him a withering smirk. "My dear Javier. We may be in the same line of work, but you could never possibly hope to know all my secrets. There is a way. But it is a dangerous one. And it means the rest of the family will have to die in his place."

As one, the Lopezes all looked up, shocked beyond words at that last sentence.

Thanatos held up his paws. "Only for a little bit," he reassured.

"What the heck does THAT mean?" Max asked frantically.

Thanatos took a deep breath. "What I am about to tell you now, no other living mortal knows. It is the very secret of life and death itself. It is something you mortals are not *meant* to know, and for good reason. But as I am in your debt, I feel I must reveal it."

"Well, get on with it," Tish said impatiently.

"I am," Thanatos said warningly. "You see, there is more to life than just the body and soul. These two components are well known, but what gets ignored is a *third* element; a silent partner. A simple binding agent that makes the other two possible in the first place.

"This element, is the Whisper of the Beyond."

Puzzled looks all around.

"It is the unseen. The unknown. It is what I and Croak are made of at this very moment. What none of you realize, or ever would have realized without me, is that all living beings carry around a tiny, shining piece of the Beyond inside them. You all possess a sliver of the very dimension that birthed you and your entire universe in the first place."

"Wowww..." said Max. He didn't quite understand it, but it sure sounded cool.

"This energy," Thanatos continued, "Is what holds the soul and body together. Trying to meld matter with non-matter otherwise is futile. It is why the living can never return entirely from the dead. The spell that's holding you in one piece, young Max, is the best you people have. And as I'm sure you know, it is an extremely shabby excuse for the real thing."

Max nodded. True, true.

"Life on Earth is not possible without the Whisper. And each living being's Whisper is unique. Once it is gone, it is gone forever, back to its source."

"So, you can't just get Max a new one?" Tish ventured.

"No," said Thanatos, "but I can try to *make* one."

He gazed at the family grimly. "This is where you come in. If you will allow me to take your lives, all of you, for merely a moment, I may be able to meld your three Whispers together and then separate them again into four."

"Whoa, like ABC gum!" marvelled Tish.

Thanatos had no idea to what she was referring. Croak did though, and chuckled.

"The choice is up to you, Max," Thanatos told him. "It is not without risk, but it is also your only hope."

Max thought hard. "You mean, there's a chance Mom 'n Dad and Tish could die for real? Forever?"

Silently, Thanatos nodded.

His face set in a stern frown, Max paused for a moment. And then he said, "No."

Martina dropped to his side in a heartbeat, putting her arms around him. "Sweetie! What do you mean? Don't you want to be alive again?"

He looked deep into his eyes, his gaze determined but also sorrowful. "Yeah, Mom. Of course I do. But I can't ask you guys to risk yourselves like that. It wouldn't be fair."

Carlos knelt by his son's side as well, patting him paternally on the back. "You don't have to ask us anything, my little sun. I would die a thousand times for you. It is what a parent is for. We make hard decisions and give of ourselves to make sure our children are safe."

Marina nodded agreement. "I'm willing to risk it. For you, Max. I want my little boy back the way he was. You deserve that, honey."

"And you know I will too," Tish added. "Plus, even if we did die, that wouldn't be so bad, would it? At least we'd all still be together. And if we all went to Heck, I'm sure there'd be all sorts of cool trouble down there we could get into!"

Max chuckled, picturing his sister's words. "Yeah, they'd probably kick us out after a while," he said. They both bumped foreheads and laughed.

"So, are we agreed?" Thanatos asked. "The risk is minor. Even though I have only done something like this a pawful of times before in all my eons, I am well acquainted with the matter at hand. I owe you a favor, Max, and this is the very best I can do." His tone was genuine, and almost pleading.

Max looked up, bravely. "Okay then. I guess."

Tish hugged him. "You're gonna be okay, Max. We all are."

"What part do I play in this? "Javier asked. "Would you have more luck with four Whispers instead of three?"

Thanatos gave him a bittersweet smile. "Though the offer is admirable, it would never work. Yours is simply too different; I can see it within you. These three are family, which is why I believe there is even a chance at all. Though, for all the help you've unwittingly given me over the years, consider it my gift to you to allow you to sit and witness something no other mortal has ever in all of time beheld."

"Fair enough," said Javier. "Should I go wake Jeff?"

"Don't push it," Thanatos cautioned.

Max was surrounded in hugs as his family fed him their love and their devotion. As much as he hated knowing they were risking their lives for him, he also felt a wonderful bliss at knowing they would do such a thing for him. That their love was really that strong. It felt good to feel loved.

He looked up to the Lord of the Dead. "When can we do this?"

"Right away."

Max nodded. "Cool. Then let's."


	~***~


-CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE-

Thanatos led them outside, to a dark, cool place out near the woods. A shy green clearing where the wind felt right.

The family marched along in the softly rustling grass, heading either to their doom or to their deepest wishes fulfilled.

Thanatos bade them sit down in a circle, Max with his back to the east and facing his mother. Carlos on his left, Tish on his right.

They did. The night air ruffled their tan-and-grey fur.

They were silent.

Javier stood a distance away, observing.

At a nod from Thanatos, Croak stepped into the middle of their circle. The little squirrel looked calm, but deeply solemn. Ready for something magical, something powerful, something not of this world, to come over him.

Thanatos closed his eyes and began to alter reality.

Croak stood up ramrod-straight, as if electricity were being passed through him. He began to change.

Tish was staring in wonder, but Thanatos told her sharply to close her eyes, make no sound, and to keep as still as possible.

Tish obeyed. They all obeyed.

Javier was the only one who saw Croak's transformation. The little squirrel began to flicker alarmingly, like a TV set with a glitch. His fur grew lighter. His form seemed to melt, then sharpen.

Slowly, he became a pillar of purple flame.

Like the color violet made solid, the thing that Croak had transfigured into flickered like fire but kept its shape like a crystal. It lifted off the ground in a silent hover.

It began to spin.

Faster and faster it twirled, like a pendant on a string, drawing the wind into it.

Carlos, Martina and Tish began to feel something tugging at their insides. Not their guts, but their souls. Something was trying to pry free the glue that held their flesh and essence together.

Max could feel nothing. Except fear.

Tish cried out softly in an emotion that was not quite pain. The purple flame wobbled off course for a second, but then righted itself and stayed true.

As Javier watched, the flame took hold of their Whispers and _pulled_.

He saw it first as a thin mist, seeming to pulsate out of their chests like a wispy tongue. Then it grew longer, appearing more solid and handkerchief-shaped, but still only a swirling silver fog.

The three coyotes shuddered as emotions they had never felt before coursed through them. They could all feel an bottomless sense of loss, of losing something infinitely precious, and were seized by a desperate urge to wrest it back in before it was too late.

But they also knew that, for Max, they must resist that urge.

Javier forced himself to stand idle too, as he watched the family he had sworn to protect die before his very eyes.

Tish went first. Her whisper jerked free elastically, like a long stand of bubble gum breaking, and was slurped up eagerly by the spinning purple flame. She uttered a short, guttural moan and fell over backwards in the grass. Still as a stone.

Max gasped as he felt his sister's presence simply wink out like a light.

Carlos was next, and Martina shortly after. Their souls were older and more stubborn, and could cling harder. But eventually their Whispers were torn free too. They also fell back, silent and motionless.

Max could *feel* their deaths. Cold tears ran down his cheeks and he fought harder than ever to keep himself silent.

Thanatos floated closer, his eyes blazing with immortal concentration. He reached out his long, agile hands into the heart of the spinning flame...

And *clenched*.

There was an absolutely noiseless explosion of light. For less than a second, the night became illuminated with a great blue flare. Max could see it easily through his closed eyelids. If Javier had not turned away at just the right moment, he could have easily been struck temporarily blind.

Luckily though, he only had to blink away several precious seconds' worth of spots from his vision before he could behold what Thanatos was doing now.

It seemed he had gone mad. He was wrestling with the flame, seeming to strangle it. He pounded it, swore at it, shaped it and tore it. But it was not Croak he was doing these things to. Croak was only the vessel. Thanatos was fighting the contents inside. Stretching and molding them in ways the universe had never intended.

He fought with the fury of one thousand demons.

In the end, the Whispers gave up first.

All of a sudden, they simply lost the will to protest any longer and became compliant and pliable in Thanatos' hands. He grinned victoriously, looking quite insane in the violet firelight, and lifted his hands to the sky.

Four blazingly bright silver balls of pure, chimerical energy rose at his command, swirling around and around in a glowing orbit.

Thanatos brought down his hands like a conductor ending the symphony of his lifetime.

Max shut his eyes tight.

The four Whispers slammed hard into their new homes, at first fighting the placement, then taking hold ferociously.

There was another otherworldly flare of light, this time so bright it really did blind Javier.

He could not see what happened next.


	~***~


END OF BOOK FOUR


