Raspberry Iced Tea
AUTHOR'S NOTE -- This is the Season Two premiere of 'The Sheridan Conspiracy.' Season One centered around Sheridan, Indiana. Season Two here ... is set in Sheridan, Wyoming.
"How'd you get your name, Perry ... " ... was the whisper. In the April dark. Next to him. The bedroom window was open, slightly (no screen or anything; just ... open). And it was spring. The nights were cool (and covering). The nights were starry. They were clear like ... how a bell-sound was clear.
"I don't know," was the mouse's equally hushed response. Evasive.
"You do."
The mouse said nothing. Eyes closed. On his back. Breathe in ... breathe out ... breathe in ...
"Peregrine," she said, on her side (beside him). Paw on his bare, furry chest. A soft caress. "Please ... why won't you tell me? Is it bad?" the skunk asked. Looking so smart. So pretty. In the dark, like this, the black of her ... seemed to blend with the light-less air, and she seemed to only be halfway there. Like she was an outline. But her touch ... made it so evident. Oh, yes, she was here. Tangibly so.
"No ... just a story. Like any other story."
"Then why won't you tell me?"
"You'd feel sorry for me. I don't want you to feel sorry for me ... I don't want you to think I'm ... I don't know." A weak shrug. Fur creating a rustle-rustle sound on the navy-blue sheets (as he did so).
"Well, tell me ... mm?" Her paw slid up ... parting his fur (a rain-cloud grey). Fingers sliding up to the fur above his sternum. "We've been mates for, what, three months? I wanna know ... a mouse named for a falcon? That can't be an accident ... a prey named for a predator." She twisted to peer at him. In the dimness, her eyes (a forest-green) ... peering. Playful. Persistent. Prodding him.
The mouse, whiskers twitching, let out a breath ... paws fiddling ... reaching over to the bed-stand. Which had a lamp. Had some pennies. Had an alarm clock (fifteen years old, and still working). And a toy ship. Peregrine swallowed and picked up the ship ... turning it over and over in his paws. The little black letterings on the hull read 'Luminous' ...
Audrey waited, half-sprawled atop of him ... looking to him through half-open eyes. Everything, in this kind of light, at this time of the day (past midnight) ... oh, everything done in halves. (Except love. That was done ... in full.)
Peregrine sighed and put the ship back on the bed-stand. A mouse who collected toys. Who played with toy ships ... toy cars. Toys. He was a steely, haunted sort. He was a mouse. Which meant he was hopeless. Wasn't he? Did he collect these meager toys ... in the hopes of sparking the child-like innocence trademark of his species? That all other mice, in spite of the darkness they endured ... that other mice resiliently kept? But that he'd never (in his own opinion) had?
"Perry," the skunk prodded. Poke-poke!
The mouse whisker-twitched. And took a deep breath. Held it. Let it out. "It's stupid, really. I just ... I was born in a litter of five. A falcon killed the rest of my ... my ... he killed them, and I was the only one left, and he spared me. Cause I had a 'defiant squeak' ... " Blank eyes. Grey eyes. Like his fur. Everything overcast. Even when with her. But, oh, she kept trying to reach him. To heal him. To ...
" ... know that. I didn't know that."
"Well, obviously. I never told you." He turned a bit. Met her eyes. "Why'd you make me tell you? Are you happier ... knowing that?"
"I didn't make you do anything," was her reply. "I asked ... "
"It's stupid, Audrey. It's a stupid story. It's ... I don't even care. It's my name. I don't care. And neither," he insisted, "should you."
She was quiet for several moments. Breathing. Swallowing. "Well ... " A head-tilt. "I'm sorry," she said, but ... there was a bit of a sting in her voice.
Peregrine sighed. Opening his muzzle to apologize, but shutting it. Weakness. Apologizing ... would be an admittance of weakness. Weakness ... got his litter-mates killed. Weakness kept all mice ... subservient. Weakness. He hesitated to show it. Even in front of her.
The skunk laid still.
Some kind of night-thing ... was sounding outside. A bug. More than one bug. A whole chorus of bugs. And other things. Sometimes, the coyotes would get rowdy and roam around ... and their howls would send chills down a fur's spine. Especially if one was prey ... the coyotes, when drunk, would kill a prey fur. It happened.
No one in these parts slept with their door unlocked.
But, living on the outskirts of Sheridan, Wyoming, one ... grew accustomed to chills. To feeling them. Receiving them. Living through them.
Just last week, 'The Board' ... the governing body of the fading town ... as punishment for recent 'rebellious activities,' they activated the disaster/tornado sirens. Every thirty-three minutes. For thirty-three hours.
And, most furs in this town being prey (mice, squirrels, rabbits, chipmunks, et cetera) ... and already being prone to anxiety, the sound of those sirens ... was terrifying. The sound was DESIGNED ... to terrify. To capture your attention. To prompt you into ... something. Action? Something. And they'd gone off, those things, blaring, wailing ... like dying demons ... every thirty-three minutes. Even during the night. No one could sleep. The town's population, after the 'term of punishment' had ended ... they'd all been ragged. Frayed.
Peregrine still heard those sirens in his sleep ... and would wake, INSISTING they were sounding. But ... no. They weren't. It was just an echo. An echo in his mind. His nightmares playing tricks on him. He would jerk and squeak, eyes snapping open at three in the morning, fur matted with sweat ... and would cry. He would start to cry.
Audrey would wake and ... whisper things to him. And hold him close, and ...
... the mouse would quickly shove the emotions back down. Would blink his eyes dry. And insist that he was okay.
Audrey would press that, no, he was not ... none of them were ...
... but he would tell her he was fine. "Let's go back to sleep," he would say ... with no tone in his voice.
Audrey wasn't afraid of the sirens. But, then, Audrey wasn't prey. Not quite. Skunks were ... not exactly predators, but not exactly prey. They could straddle that line. They could fit in both worlds. A fact that Audrey repeatedly insisted ... was simply not true. "It makes us outcasts," she'd told Peregrine. "Neither side wants us. Neither side trusts us."
To which the mouse had replied, softly, full of yearning, full of pain, "It's gotta be better ... than being prey." Anything had to be.
Especially here.
Oh, to be caught in the vice of a Sheridan town ... to be born into this, and ... trapped here.
He would often tell her, "I wish I was a skunk ... like you. I could be more for you ... I could be better."
"You're my mouse," she would reply. "My," she whispered, "mouse. I fell in love with YOU. Not something else. Don't wish to be something else ... "
But, now, in bed ... another night ...
And it was the mouse who actually broke the sudden silence. Saying, "Aud ... "
An exhale through her nose. "Yeah ... ?"
"It's not that I ... don't trust you, or ... I'm not mad at you, you know? I never would be. I just ... I've had to act the part of a fighter ... when, in my heart, I'm not one. I lost most of my family to the predators, and ... the ones I didn't lose, they didn't understand me. I had to leave, and ... when I struck out on my own, and ... I wound up here, and then I got stuck here." An exhale. "We're all stuck here," he whispered. "I guess I just ... mice are meant to scurry. That's all I've done. Is scurry. From this, from that ... to here. My instincts tell me that I should scurry from you ... that you'll trap me. That you'll ... demand of me ... more than I can bear. That you'll ... I don't know ... " A trail. A pause.
And she was holding to his tail. Reeling it in like a fishing line (which she loved to do).
"It's not ... logical. It doesn't make sense. I," he insisted, "don't make sense."
"A lot of things don't," was her response. "It's not whether they make sense or not, really. It's ... having to courage to look at things hard enough, long enough ... to come to that conclusion. Or ANY conclusion. At least you know things don't make sense. At least you know it cause ... you've TRIED to understand. At least you try, right? And you keep trying?"
A quiet nod. "I think so ... but, when you're born to scurry, you don't ever stop too long. You don't ever linger too long on any one thing." The mouse paused. Felt a pain. A deep, welling pain ... he'd had mates ... before Audrey. More than he could on one paw. He'd given his body and soul to them ... each of them. And, upon losing them, they took a part of him ... that he never got back. And he, in turn, kept a part of them ... seared in his heart. Such love and loss. Such ... touch. Such ... the scents, the sounds. He remembered everything. He, like many mice, had an obsessively-compulsive ... perfect memory. It was hard for him to forget.
He felt older than he should. And he was only twenty-two.
His relationships, his romances ... they never lasted long. Everyone wanted a 'fun' fur. They wanted ... they didn't want his seriousness. They didn't want his gravity. His quiet poetry. His ... understated self. They didn't want a mouse. And he, in turn, became awkward, became desperate ... it always fell apart. And he, in the end, would always scurry away ... in tears. Wandering the prairie of his life. Praying he fell into another femme's arms, and that, this time ... it would work. Please, let it work ... let it be TRUE love. A spiritual thing ...
Oh, that it would work!
Three months. That was good, wasn't it? They'd been together three months, him and Audrey ... that was longer than the other mate-ships.
But, now, she was starting to ask about his past ... his family ... and things, like, what his name meant (as she'd just prodded him about). If he told her everything, like he'd told the other femmes everything ... she would feel sorry for him, and ... he would feel self-conscious, and ... things would get awkward. And then ...
"You may not think it ... Perry," she whispered, crawling over him. On all fours above him. Muzzle peering down at his. Eye to eye. "But we're BOTH ... outcasts. In our own ways. We can do each other," she whispered, "so much good. And I believe ... " Her nose touched his. Her nose was still. A bit chilled. His nose was warm and twitching, sniffing (constantly). "I believe we already have ... and I ... "
" ... I know. I know that," he confessed. "I just ... "
"You're waiting for me to give you the shove? You're just waiting for it?"
The mouse was quiet.
"I'm not going to."
"You say that, but ... "
"I'm not," she insisted, "going ... look at me. Hey, look at my eyes ... "
The mouse's eyes timidly, shyly ... met hers. In the dark of the bedroom. Everything an outline. Everything dressed in shadow.
"I am not," she promised (at a heartfelt whisper), "going to give you the shove."
"But that's what lovers do," he countered (with a worldly cynicism that just didn't fit his yearning, Christian soul), holding his breath.
"Not this one." Her eyes bled of confidence. Of ... a well-honed, well-used survival instinct. The skunk had lived in this region of Wyoming all her life. Had lived in the shadow of the Sheridan Conspiracy ... always. "If one's drowning, one doesn't ... refuse the life preserver. One latches to it."
"So, I'm ... " A flushing, ear-burning whisper. "I'm a life preserver?"
"You're a source of joy and ... love, and ... tenderness. And ... those things keep me alive. You," she whispered, "keep me alive."
He shook his head weakly. "No ... no, I'm pretty sure it's the other way around."
"We're mates," she reminded.
"I know ... "
"Then smile for me. Please. Smile," she said. A sigh. And she lowered down upon him ... bare body to his. Fur on fur. Belly to belly. Whispering, right onto the steely-grey fur of his cheek, "Grin, Perry ... Perry, grin. Peregrine ... "
The mouse bit his lip. Tried to fight the smile, but ... could not. Oh, could not. He was a mouse, and mice were SO susceptible to cheesy jokes ... a slight giggle ...
"There we go," was Audrey's satisfied whisper.
The smile stayed ... for several seconds, in fact. The mouse's eyes momentarily bright. Wondering what it was ... that she saw in him. Wondering what kept her around (aside from the obvious physical needs that they could only sate ... with each other's help).
"I wanna see more of that. More frowns ... upside down."
"That's silly ... "
"Is it?" A grin.
"Yes ... "
"What's so wrong with silly? Don't you like ... silly?" she whispered. Stroking his arms. Sitting up, at a straddle of his belly. Fingers of paws trailing on his arms. Messing with the fur on his neck.
Peregrine took a deep breath through his twitching, flaring nose, and ... said, "I don't know ... I just have a hard time letting my guard down. I have an overactive survival instinct. Even for a mouse."
"I've noticed," was her barely-audible whisper.
"I can't live," was his stuttering admission, "cause I'm ... too afraid of dying. Isn't that ... like, the most ironic ... thing? Isn't that messed-up? Even with my faith ... I'm still afraid. I can't turn it off ... "
"Anxiety can be ... dealt with. I can help you ... "
"How?"
"I can chase it away."
"You haven't the claws ... "
"I'm a skunk. I'm good at making things flee from me," she said. Almost purring it. Almost ... reveling in her own aura. And in the feel and scent of him, her love, warm beneath her.
"I've never seen a skunk spray ... anyone ... "
"You don't want to," she assured. Paws back on his chest. Her voice ... betraying a seriousness. Replacing, momentarily, the playfulness. "You don't want to ... "
"So, you CAN," he asked, "spray an enemy ... "
A quiet nod.
"Have you? Before?"
"Twice," was her response. And she swallowed. "It's not something we usually do unless we've ... absolutely no alternative." And she met his eyes. "And since you told me about your name, it's only fair ... I should start telling you things about my past. Maybe not tonight, but ... "
"You ... you don't have ... "
" ... to? Have to? I want to ... you know why?" She met his eyes.
A swallow. A shake of the head. Head-fur going rustle-rustle on the pillow sheet.
"Cause I trust you, Perry. This isn't a fling, okay? We're not just ... falling into each other ... waiting for the sun to come out, and once it does, we're gonna wave and ... strike off again. This isn't born ONLY of circumstance, our mate-ship. It's born of ... something more. Fate ... God's will ... something. There's something more. I know there is. We NEED each other. Badly. In many ways. Physically, emotionally, mentally ... you name it. Those needs have to be addressed and ... quenched. We can't run from our emotions. Or our pains, or ... but I, uh ... " She took a deep breath. "I trust you, Perry, and I'm planning on being with you for a very long time. So, we might as well bare our secrets. Bare ourselves. Yeah?"
The mouse, after a moment, nodded quietly.
"And if I have to pin your tail to the ground to keep you from scurrying away ... I'll do it."
A weak smile on his part. "Really? With what?"
"A thumb-tack. TWENTY thumb-tacks. With ... a rope. Tie a rope to your tail, and nail the rope into the ground with a spike. With ... our just put an electric shock collar on your tail."
"It would slip off."
"Your neck, then."
"Love is non-possessive. Truly loving something," Peregrine reasoned, "means knowing when to let it go ... without keeping it hostage. Without ... "
"Those are excuses, Perry. Love is persistent. Love is demanding. It takes energy, sacrifice ... takes risk. Takes doing drastic things ... to make it work. Cause NO feeling, no emotion, no mortal thing ... matters more. And we are hard-wired to do anything ... to find love. And, once found, to keep it. Protect it."
The mouse had nothing to say ... in response to that. One, because it was hard to combat such truths (as she spoke). And, two, because ...
... she'd pressed her sweet lips to his. Muzzle to muzzle. Had initiated a soft, sudden kiss. Breathtaking, this!
And slight panting upon the parting ...
... and the mouse licked his lips. Sighing. "Um ... "
Her forest-green eyes seemed to shimmer. As if hit by some moonlight ... coming from some undetectable source. "Um?"
"I don't know," the mouse confessed, breathing deeply (through the nose). Whiskers going ... twitch-twitch! Nose going ... sniff-sniff! And ears going: swivel-swivel! Dishy ears, rounded, flooding with blood. The lobes turning a rosier pink. While his thin, long tail, silky ... trailed off the side of the bed. Wriggling a bit.
Audrey, slid back down ... level with him. On the sheets beside him.
And, wordlessly, their arms and legs ... began to tangle. Began to lock on. A simple hold. A simple, loving ... warm, melting ... sort of hold. With eyes closed and the sounds of soft breathing ... breathe, breathe ... breathing.
"Aud ... " The mouse's voice was frail.
"Yeah ... darling ... "
"Mm ... " His nose was on her neck. Her silky-black neck-fur. The whole of her was silky. Was soft. Skunks had luxurious fur. She was night-black, and ... with snow-white stripes on her tail, and ... on her breasts and belly. And little white patches on her face, too ... the tail was bushy and arching (like a squirrel's tail ... without the twitching). No, skunks didn't twitch. They moved with a practiced ease. A learned ease, rather.
"Do you think we can ... escape here?"
"If we tried, they would stop us. If we succeeded ... they would follow us." A hesitation. "The only way to beat the Sheridan Conspiracy ... is to BEAT it. Destroy it."
"I heard a rumor," Peregrine whispered, keeping his voice to a very, very quiet whisper (cause it was well-known that the guard trolleys had eavesdropping capabilities) ... " ... I heard a rumor that ... a mouse and a bat in Indiana, they ... they freed Sheridan, Indiana." A baited breath. Sheridan, Indiana was the Eastern hub of the Sheridan Network (a collective of all towns in the United States named Sheridan). The Eastern Hub was Sheridan, Indiana. The Western Hub was Sheridan, Wyoming. "I mean ... is it true? You think?" To imagine ... a life without water towers that WATCHED you. Without mechanical, sentient trolleys patrolling the streets and gravel roads, and ... without the fear. Without the fear that something was brewing, and you didn't know what it was, but ... oh, it was bad.
"All the news that comes into this town is ... intercepted and altered. All we get is propaganda," she reminded him.
"I know, but ... some fur told another fur, and ... I heard a rumor. I was wondering," he whispered hopefully, "if you'd heard it, too. That maybe," he whispered, arm around her side, around her back. Clutching at the fur on her back. One of her legs slid between his, and ... his tail still writhing, but ... in a lazier, more submissive way. "That maybe," he finished, "it was true."
"I did hear something," Audrey whispered (right into his sensitive ear ... so that only he could hear). "Something about ... a Field ... and an Adelaide. I heard that Sheridan, Indiana was liberated from the Network. From the Conspiracy ... that the town is independent again. But ... I mean, I've no way of knowing ... you know how 'The Board' likes to plant false seeds of hope. With the sole purpose of coming along a few weeks later and publishing a huge story in the local paper ... to crush it. They love to let us dream ... so they can crush those dreams." A pause. "I don't know if it's true or not, but ... I'd like to think it is."
Peregrine breathed shakily. Hugging her. "I hope so, too," he admitted weakly, honestly.
There was a momentary quiet. Filled by ...
... the breeze through the open window. How it moved the curtains. How it swirled in little eddies around the room. Over their clothes (in a haphazard pile on the floor), over a rocking chair in the corner ... and the 80's television with the silver rabbit-ear antennae (that only got five channels) ...
The night-bugs, and the frogs, and ... all that lived by starlight.
Their breathing, and their paws running over each other's fur (and form). Little, random kisses ... foot-paws bumping each other, rustling the sheets.
A wind chime on the wooden railing of the front porch ... on the other side of the rural house.
"Perry ... "
"Mm ... ?"
"There's something ... something else I heard," she whispered. "I don't know ... I mean, you know how reliable these things are ... "
"What?" His heart quickened pace. Patter-pat ... patter-pat ...
"You know the raspberry iced tea factory ... on the south side of the town?" she asked. The town being ... twenty thousand furs, maybe. Bigger than Sheridan, Indiana, but ... in just as much decay. With just as much rust.
"Yeah," was the mouse's admission.
"Sheridan, Wyoming ... is the biggest supplier of bottled raspberry iced tea this side of the Mississippi ... and, on top of that, EVERY-FUR in town ... drinks the stuff."
"We have some in the fridge," Perry realized. He and Aud went to the grocery every Tuesday evening. When they'd both gotten their meager paychecks. They always got a case of raspberry iced tea. "I had some for lunch." He'd packed a bottle in his lunch-bag ... he worked (currently) on a nearby ranch. Doing farming tasks. While Audrey worked in the town's movie theater.
"Uh-huh." A tense pause. "I heard a rumor that they're ... experimenting with mind-control powders. Or, like ... minerals, chemicals ... they can mix with the tea. So that they can put mind-altering substances IN the tea ... without affecting the taste. And that can't be detected by conventional tests ... they're planning on using the tea to ... expand their reach. To turn us into drones. Once and for all." It wasn't enough that 'The Board' and General Sheridan's henchman (who had taken over for him ... rumor had it; rumor told of the General being unfrozen and ... 'done in' ... in Indiana ... ) ... but it wasn't enough that 'The Board' lord over the residents of Sheridan, Wyoming. No, they wanted complete domination. Complete submission.
They wanted, through bottle raspberry iced tea ... to drug EVERY-FUR. And, once drugged, what would they do ... what would happen?
The possibilities were truly terrifying.
It stated with tea ... where did it end?
The world?
"But ... I mean, how can we prove it?" Peregrine asked.
"We can't," was Audrey's helpless reply. "Unless ... "
The mouse didn't want to be hearing this ...
"Unless we go INSIDE the factory ... and snoop and sniff around."
"Aud ... "
"Come on, Perry. You're a mouse. You have a better nose than me. Better senses. And I ... if it comes to it, I can use my spray as a weapon. We go in ... see if it's true, and we leave ... "
"They'll KNOW it was us! They'll come for us in the middle of the night!"
"I won't let them," she promised.
"You can't promise ... "
" ... that? Yes. Yes, I can. I am. Listen to me ... "
"Audrey ... no, I don't ... "
" ... listen, listen," she whispered. Shushing him. "Perry. Perry, you feel the shadow under which we live, right? You feel the hope ... instilled by the rumor about Sheridan, Indiana ... and why can't it happen here? It just takes two furs," Audrey whispered. "It just takes love ... to melt death's clawed grip. To ... find the courage, the confidence, and ... to incite change."
"What if we get hurt? What if you ... what if something happens ... "
"You said it yourself: you're built to scurry. If something happens ... you can outrun it."
"The predator always gets the mouse. In the end," Perry told her. "The predator always gets his prey."
"But most prey don't have a skunk ... to help keep things at bay. Mm?" She nuzzled him. Nuzzled ...
A sigh ... " ... Aud ... "
"Let's do it, Perry. Let's try ... if it works, it works, and if it doesn't ... 'The Board' can't necessarily risk offing us. It would raise too many questions."
"No, but there are worse things than death," Peregrine said, shivering.
"I don't think so ... "
"Audrey, I ... "
" ... will be okay. Okay?"
The mouse twitched. Swallowed.
"If the raspberry iced tea in this town is tainted ... it's our duty to find out. And to let everyone know."
"It's so risky ... "
"So is life, darling. If we're ever gonna get ahead ... past all the strife and strain and stress that's keeping us in the dark ... then we're gonna have to open some unexplored doors."
Peregrine sighed. She was strong-willed. She was adamant. She was gonna go into that bottled raspberry iced tea factory ... she was set on it. Probably had been ... even before she'd brought it up.
And she knew he wouldn't let her go in there alone ...
... what kind of male would he be, what kind of mate would he be ... if he let her go in there alone?
No, he would come.
And, he had to admit ... he felt a spike of hope. What if it could be done? What if Sheridan, Wyoming ... could throw off the shackles of the Conspiracy? What if the rumors about Sheridan, Indiana ... were true?
What if things could change? What if they could ... grow?
What if they could all live again? Purely so?
There was only one way to know: they would have to try. They would have to find out. But that was tomorrow. For the moment, tomorrow would have to worry about itself, for ...
... these furs were young (and in love). And were too warm to cool down. Oh, cool down ... too warm ... best to fuel the fire. Feed the fever. Such was the mantra of the romantic believers ... hotter, hot ... and why should they stop?
"Perry ... " Fishing paws ...
"What ... " The mouse wriggling (as mouses were prone to do).
"Are you ... tired?" A huff ... gleefully wrestling him, pinning him on his back.
A hot, admitted, whispered, "No ... " Cute, shy squeaks ...
A tail (and back) arching, and a throaty, sighing purr. "Mm ... good ... "
And, outside the window, the night (smelling of blossoms and fields and distant mountain ranges) ... peeked in (jealously).
If the sirens DID sound tonight, right now, at this moment ... neither fur would've known.