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Chapter 11: Escape

The next morning I've got another language lesson like everyday I've been here. Time constraints limit the lesson to a couple more words before we have to get ready for 'work', also like every day I have been here.

I put on my 'robe' before Alpha does hers, but she has to smooth the wrinkles out of mine; that's probably due to how I treated it last night. From my container it's a quick dash to the restaurant proper where we 'work'. During the jog across the cold pavement I notice nobody's coming out of the new residential container... is it empty? No time to think about it as I want to get inside the warm building. Again, like every day before, there's a clean kimono looking robe waiting for us in our lockers. This one's probably for in case we somehow managed to dirty the one we wore to our containers last night.

I ignore the robe and grab the wrist-mounted touch screen device from its cradle and head over to the front of the dining area. I wind up trailing behind the rest of the Bio-Morphs; in turn Alpha follows me before she takes up Red's position at the podium. I can see now that we didn't get a replacement for Sixteen yet... odd, maybe he will arrive later?

From there the day proceeds similarly to the days before. A breakfast rush starts shortly after the first few customers arrive, then the lunch rush hits around noon and lasts 'till two in the afternoon. Then a long dinner rush from about four thirty until eight at night, with only a few customers wander in after the end of the dinner rush. This leaves us little to do but wait for the clock to hit closing time.

Alpha follows me back to my residential container and stays with me all night again, as our day basically comes full circle. The rest of the week passes the same way, until Sunday: that day I spend most of the day with Alpha, with her teaching me as many words as she can with the time we have.

By extension, the following week passes in the same way, so much so that I stop telling time by what the clock says, and instead as just 'before work' and 'after work'. When one before work and one after work time in my container passes, I know one day has passed.

Something breaks that routine on Friday, at least I think it is Friday. That day, Christopher shows up with Red and a male fox Bio-morph - black furred, with splotches of white. Both of them are dressed more or less to 'work' as well. Red doesn't look completely healed, but he does look better. At least, he no longer has the patch over his eye and his arm is no longer in a sling. Visible through the cheap robes he's wearing are some bandages around his chest, I'd guess for the bruised ribs. Internal injuries like that do tend to take a while to heal.

Business is pretty slow when they arrive, which is a good thing because Alpha couldn't have taken the time to navigate around customers on her way to give Red a proper welcoming. Once she notices the bandages on his chest she is careful in how she hugs him as to not agitate his bruised ribs. She must have missed him. The new Bio-morph just steps to the side on seeing her rushing over to Red.

Once she is finished its like a signal was lit for the rest of us: we head on over to bid him a welcome home in our own way. Following right behind the main group, I don't even offer a token resistance to the familiar buzz in my head.

This earns a curious gaze from Red, but he stops staring after Alpha says something to him in the tongue. The only thing I can understand is my name. I can pick out a few other words, but their meaning escapes me. Red barks out something and one of the other males walks over to the newcomer and takes him to the locker room. I see him occasionally as the same male shows him the ropes, but I don't pay any more attention to him other than how he looks. He is easily more attractive than sixteen ever was or ever will be.

That night Alpha heads to her own container along with Red instead of staying with me. She holds onto him following the shower and our communal grooming session.

Alpha probably did care about my well being at first, but as time went on I must have turned into a source of comfort for her in Red's absence. I don't know if I should be angry about Alpha using me like that, or be happy I could comfort my Alpha Female when she was lonely, especially considering I may only be a beta in the pack at best.

If I was still human it would have been the humane thing to do, to comfort a friend in need like this. Is it also the Bio-Morh thing to do? For some reason I also feel safer now that Red's returned from wherever Christopher lives, maybe it has something to do with my new instincts.

The next morning, Red is with Alpha and helps me with my language lessons alongside her. If I had to guess though, that's more to do with Alpha not wanting him out of her sight right now. They must love each other a lot, for such a short absence to affect her.

A week after Red's return, I'm back on the menu for 'special services'. To be frank I'd have been happy to stay off the menu for good! The next day, everyone I served on my first week here returned, and each of them ordered time with me. By the end of the day I think I figured out how Alpha handles customers touching her like this.

You just have to pretend it's not the perverted customer molesting my body: instead, you have to imagine someone that you like handling your body like this. If, by some miracle, I do get out of here, I promise myself that I'll never tell Patrick that, for many of the customers that bought me, I imagined him doing it to my body instead. Come to think of it, I wouldn't mind him doing it to me in real life either... That line of thought though makes me feel weird so I try not to dwell on it.

Time marches ever onward; as the days pass by the sun sets sooner every evening, and before I know it the seasons have turned from fall to winter. The change brings with it a constant covering of snow on the unpaved patches of ground outside. Every morning and evening I curse the fact they don't give us shoes to protect our feet for our trips between the building and our containers. The others don't seem to mind as much, so I guess they either don't care or their feet have become thickly callused, mine haven't developed the latter yet.

I end up relishing the hot showers at the end of the day and dreading the short dash through the cold and the snow afterwards. Said containers are always cold till we turn on the heat, but at least the air coming out of the vents is hot as soon as we turn the heat on. The company that made these things didn't skimp on the heater, which I suppose is something to be thankful for.

Our routine only changes after the weather gets colder and the days get shorter; we get some extra items to wear, namely hats and trinkets themed around the holidays. To my surprise, neither Red nor Alpha knew anything about Thanksgiving or Christmas, having to explain them both was weird. A lot of the concepts they plain just didn't understand. Santa in particular was difficult to explain, the illusion kids have and the reality they learn when they grow up was something they just didn't get.

During Thanksgiving all the vixens - myself included - are wearing feathered Indian head dresses while all the todds wear pilgrim hats. Doing this is presumably to set the Thanksgiving mood for the customers all throughout the day. To me it all looks tacky, on top of being uncomfortable to wear. This is also the first time I've seen this place serve something non-Japanese and more substantial than a side item or kids' meal. Instead, that day we serve a full-on Thanksgiving dinner to customers: turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberries, and the other foods typically associated with the holiday.

Damn this place to hell, I was just getting used to the bland crap they stock the fridge in our residential containers with! It doesn't help that the smell of this food reminds me of some of the old Jacks memories. Said memories do nothing but make me even sadder as I work.

The situation is similar when Christmas comes calling, instead of the pilgrim and Indian themed hats the vixens wear stupid elf hats and the todds are stuck with Santa hats. And all the while the food was just as tempting as the Thanksgiving spread. Just another layer of torture to my new life as a slave Bio-Morph.

As time has gone on, I find that my mood has improved slowly despite these setbacks. With each week's passing, my knowledge of their language improves at a slow-but-steady pace. By the time New Year's Eve rolls around I actually able to speak my first coherent sentence in 'The Tongue', albeit like a child. While I was happy for this milestone, I was also happy because the cooks had the day off, meaning we got the day off too.

At the same time, for some reason I was also sad, not to mention tired; I notice the what time the computer terminal is showing, a few minutes past midnight. I choose my words slowly and carefully, although the moment after I say each one I wince inwardly at how badly I must be butchering it:

'I please be alone now?'

My question causes them to look at each other and debate allowing me to do so. I don't want to let them decide for me. So, sitting up, I clothe myself in my own robe and one of theirs in the hope that the extra layer of clothing will keep me warm enough outside for the time alone I would like to have to think about things.

Once dressed, I quickly head out the front door of my residential container, close it behind me, and take a couple of steps on the cold gangway as I move to lean against the railing.

The double layering of clothing does help and keeps most of the cold out... sadly, it doesn't help my feet. It seems time has only helped a little in that regard, as my paw pads have finally started developing calluses. Not as much as Red's for instance, but just enough to keep away the feeling I am standing on biting cold metal. I'd still rather have shoes, though...

My focus is not on the bitter cold: it's directed at the few visible stars in the night sky shinning through the light pollution of the city. And alongside them, the memories of who I was, which still plague me, no matter how much I want to forget them.

After much discussion with Alpha, I relented to her idea and kept his name as my own, as odd as it is to call a female 'Jack'. I no longer consider myself 'him' anymore, so why is it that I still remember everything he's done? I'm a different person now in both body and mind, so why do I feel sad? Why do I remember what 'he' did this time of year and long to do it again?

My previous self didn't have much money, when he had money at all. Neither did his mother or anyone else he knew. Even so, he'd always try to make due and have fun when this time of year rolled around.

For example I- no, the old Jack managed to get enough money to buy some alcohol last year. With it Patrick and I- no, he along with some of Patrick's other friends could celebrate New Year's in the traditional sense. Drinks, games, and over all partying until the sun came up the next morning.

That isn't me anymore, I'll never be able to do that with them ever again. Nobody living there will ever accept what I am right now, they'll look at me and see how little is left of the 'Jack' they knew. So why do I miss them and want so badly to see them again, to talk with them again?

I let out a long whine at the stars and the few constellations that poke through the perpetual twilight of the city, hoping for them to answer... None of them do. Each one just goes on shining in the sky regardless of what happens to me. So I just stare at them in the cold of the first early morning of the new year as the occasional cloud and snowflake drifts by.

I wonder what 'his' mother is thinking about right now? Is she somehow content with whatever lie the fuckers from that company possibly told her about 'his' fate? Maybe they didn't tell her anything, and she's looking at the sky, kinda like I am, and wondering where 'he' is right now?

Just for a moment I let myself imagine that maybe his mother would accept what he's become. For a moment this thought process is comforting. Only for a moment; then I toss it out few seconds later in disgust due to 'his' memories of her.

If I was in her shoes, knowing what 'he' and his mother thought of Bio-Morphs before 'he' was forcibly changed into me. She'd never accept what I am now, even if she was given irrefutable proof that the Bio-Morph I am now was once her son.

No, I have to do this. With the passing of the old year, and birth of the new, I have to let go of 'him', his memories, his dreams, and start living this new life as a platinum silver-gray vixen Bio-Morph. What little freedom as I have being a slave for some perverse restaurant: this is all I have, this is all I will ever have.

My moment of solace is broken sooner than I'd wanted by the sound of my residential container door opening behind me. Alpha, dressed in her robe, steps out and gently grabs me by my shoulders before guiding me back inside. I don't struggle nor make any kind of noise as she leads me to the heating vet after closing the door. Only then do I start to shiver, realizing I may have been outside for far longer than I should have given my outfit. I guess two robes wasn't enough to keep me warm. Funny, I didn't even notice the cold out there.

Red berates me - or tries to - using the pad and pencil. He goes on about how foolish I was even with two sets of clothing to stand around outside on such a cold night. It's not hard to see he isn't actually angry at me over this: his ears and tail broadcast that fact. Alpha isn't angry at me either: the way she cuddles me to help me warm up broadcast that.

'Why outside for so long? We say fifteen not twenty.' She asks me what I was doing out there in the Tongue in simple vocabulary, presumably to help me cement in my mind what I have learned. In my rush to go outside I guess I did not hear them say that they would only allow me fifteen minutes at the most. I probably should have waited, it's not good for a Beta to act like that in front of her Alpha's.

'Thank you Alpha. I put.' Thanking her and Red for their concern is easy, but for some reason when I try to come up with an answer their question, I can't quite grasp the words, even though I know them. So I just meekly refuse to give them one and look away. Why am I so fucking reluctant to let 'him' go? All of that soul searching outside was for nothing if I can't just let the past go away!

It'd be so simple to tell them I was outside in the cold to lay the old Jack to rest. That I needed to do it for the sake of the Jack sitting on her ass and staring at her own fluffy white tipped tail while huddled up against Alpha. I can guess what is coming though, either Red or Alpha will give me a direct order to tell them and I will have no choice but to obey. The direct order doesn't come; instead I get a loving pat on the head from Alpha and I hear Red nod his head.

All three of us spend the rest of the night underneath the vent. Alpha cuddles while Red lays in front of both of us. Throughout the night Red and Alpha talk to each other, I just silently listen to them. I occasionally pick out a word here or there that they haven't taught me yet but is similar to one of the ones I know. Noticing me staring at them and having a look of understanding on my face makes Alpha happy.

I don't know if it was from the warmth or Alpha's heartbeat, but sleep claims me soon after. I have no idea how long Alpha and Red stay awake talking to each other the previous night. When I wake up, both of them are still sound asleep, and at some point during the night they've both curled around me. At least we aren't working today; I glance to the clock I find out we'd be late for our 'job' if we were. Slowly extracting myself from the two, I get dressed and walk over to the door, only to find I can't open it. There must've been a snowstorm after I came back inside... It seems to have been enough to trap us in here. Shrugging my shoulders and discarding my clothes, I gently insert myself back into the fox pile that Red and Alpha make up. About noon or so I hear someone working outside, followed by the voice of Christopher complaining about his hangover and why does 'he' have to dig all of 'us' out. The racket he makes wakes both Red and Alpha who, after stretching, both take turns using the facilities in here.

Once the snow is cleared Christopher leaves, but Alpha and Red stay for the rest of the day to continue my lessons until it's time to go to bed.

I am alone again in my residential container after the first 'work' day of the new year passes by uneventfully. With the holidays passed, things fall back into the normal, boring routine. Morning language lessons, working all day, followed by a short time to myself at night until I fall asleep, then start the routine all over again the next morning. There is a strange comfort to living like this that I can't deny now. Yes, I lack my freedom, and I'm under constant threat of being sold off if I refuse to do what's expected of me. On the other hand, I have my 'own' place, even if it is a former shipping container, and enough so-called food that I won't starve. Red, Alpha and the rest of the pack seem to give me a sense of 'family' that I- no, 'he' lacked. It was only him and his mother in that jobless center; my mother's parents and siblings completely disowned her - and thus me - once we had to live there. His father's side of the family wanted nothing to do with him even before they had to resort to it. God knows he'd never want anything to do with what's left of 'him'.

Lacking anything else to track the passage of time other than the daily routine and an occasional glance at a clock, the days pass by at a fast rate.

Every day I get more proficient in speaking the Tongue, while each night takes a little longer to arrive. Despite all of this, I'm still reluctant to let go of the memories of his life even though they have no bearing on the one I'm living now.

On slow days I wonder if his mother is doing okay, or how his childhood friend Patrick is doing. Some nights, when I want to feel pleasure and to learn more about my body, I imagine myself with Patrick, in some compromising positions, only to have some mixed feelings about it all as I come down from the highs.

By the time March - I think it's late March - rolls around the weather starts to warm up, finally melting all of the snow from the winter. This makes the morning and the evening dashes to and from 'work' more tolerable. I also consider asking for the company of one of the todds that are free come our next day off. My hands only seem to do so much when it comes to that part of my body, and it's made me wonder what it might feel like to have one of them mate with me. Such idle thoughts have to wait till the lull between the breakfast and lunch rushes. Once it arrives I sit down at one of the tables all the vixens congregate and mull over which todd I'd like to ask. I start to think more seriously about the question, only for a voice that I recognize yet haven't heard in a long time to derail that line of thought. Or, more accurately, a new and larger train of thought on a different line smashes into the previous one, completely obliterating it.

The voice is among a few others I don't recognize. I tilt an ear to focus in on the conversation without letting them know what I'm doing, only to shake my head. I've got to be hallucinating, there's no way Patrick would be here. Only I hear it again as another person in the same group asks Red for a booth, and the owner of the voice comments on the extravagance of the decor of this place.

Okay, that's it: I'm sure it's Patrick's voice, but there's no chance in hell he'd be here so I have to see who it actually is. Turning my head slightly, I glance over at the group the voice is coming from as they're being shown to a booth by Twelve.

Everything in my head stops. I can only sit there, stunned at the sight of seeing Patrick in nicer clothes than I 'know' he owns. Where did he get them? Nothing I remember about him indicates he'd ever owned or could afford a business casual suit. Regaining enough of my senses to be able to move, my tail bristles and I nearly fall out of my seat. It draws the attention of the other vixens at the table, as well as Alpha who is close by. It takes a moment before I regain my composure I sit back up in the chair and continue to stare at them.

Its him! Why the hell is he here, with those other men? I watch as Twelve seats him and the three other men he's with in one of the empty booths nearby. The other men in the group are also wearing similar business casual suits, although a couple of them look noticeably tired.

I shake my head a couple of times to try to get a hold of myself. What I need to do first is let him know who 'I' am; the 'why' part can be found out later. I'm not exactly the old Jack he'd recognize, but seeing Patrick again has reminded me that I'm enough of him to never truly be happy here. I've only been trying to fool myself into thinking I belong here, because I'd never thought something like this had even a remote chance of happening.

'Pad. Pencil. Now!' I bark out as I turn to face Alpha. I wince on realizing that I did wrong by aggressively yelling at my superior. Alpha ignores my transgression of pack etiquette, and after glancing between the now-seated group of humans and me, she reluctantly hands over her pad and pencil for me to use.

I snatch them from her hands and flip open the pad to a blank sheet of paper, only for my mind to draw a blank and my hand to refuse to move as I touch the pencil to the paper.

What am I going to say? Will he even believe what I write? Getting out of here hangs on him reading this and accepting it as true, otherwise this is going to fail just like my escape attempt. Squeezing my eyes shut, I growl at myself for being scared and indecisive: I have to do this!

After a few deep breaths I push my doubts aside as best I can and decide to write something short and simple. Short so he can read it quickly, and simple so he can understand it. If I miss this chance I'll probably never see him again, and I'll be stuck here for the rest of my life.

I quickly write down that whatever that stupid company told him was a lie; that I know where his friend 'Jack' is right now, and that I'll tell him tonight by the fence where our containers are stacked after the restaurant closes.

I tear the paper from the pad, fold it up neatly, and stand up to deliver it to Patrick. The best way to give it to him is probably to place it onto his lap as discretely as possible. My doubts return with a vengeance, rooting me to the spot. It's so god damn simple, all I have to do is walk on over there and give it to him. So why am I so scared about something going wrong? As I fight this rush of fear to keep my ears and tail from betraying me, Alpha stands up. She gently takes the note from my hand and then walks over to their table with more grace than I could have possibly managed right now. Alpha casually slips the note half-way underneath Patrick's plate as Twelve places it on the table in front of him. She then takes a long, meandering route around the dinning area to make it look like she was headed somewhere else before returning to our table.

I have to fight the urge to find a place to hide instead of retaking my seat as Patrick finds the note. I force myself to watch him slowly pull it out from under his plate, unfold it, and read it over.

It only takes Patrick a second to finish; after about a second he looks around at everyone in the room; oddly he seems to focus his attention more on the Bio-Morphs than the humans. I think he knows we can read and write like a normal human. He cautiously passes the note to the three other people in his group, all of whom go silent on reading it. Without a word Patrick folds the note and places it in his pants pocket: with it put away, the group eats their food in silence, occasionally looking around at the Bio-Morphs.

I can't help wondering if he believes what is written on it: Patrick and his group certainly acted like they did. The only way to find out for sure is to wait for him to show up at the fence tonight.

When Alpha returns from taking the long way back to our table I simply ask her 'Why?'. She writes something down on the pad of paper after picking it up and shows it to me, a smile on her face.

'You looked like you were going to give up before even trying, something you have had a bad habit of recently. I don't know who he is but judging by your reaction at seeing him you must know him pretty well. Or did before you were converted. Is he a friend of yours?'

I'm surprised at how well Alpha can read me, and I wonder how she does it. It's probably just a talent she has that makes her Alpha material. Of course she guessed right, the old Jack grew up with Patrick and I- no, he considered him a close friend. What would Patrick think of what that Jack became? He misses the old Jack - that much I am sure of - but I don't think there's anything left of 'him' other than memories. For one thing, the old me would've never wondered how good it'd feel to have sex with another guy. He wasn't gay, and neither am I from what I understand.

I try to reply to Alpha verbally, but I come up short with what little of the vocabulary I know in 'the Tongue'. With an annoyed huff, I pick up the pad of paper and the pencil to write my reply.

'Yes I do and I was scared that he would react poorly to that note. Patrick is his name and the old Jack grew up with him. I' - Before continuing I repeatedly cross out 'I' - 'He considered him a close friend in the bleak place the old me grew up in. None of the old Jack's memories show Patrick having such nice clothing, nor the money to eat at this place.'

I slide the pad of paper and pencil back over to Alpha once I've finished with them. Alpha tilts an ear slightly as she reads it over, possibly because of the correction, but I don't care.

Red interrupts our conversation to call us all up front as the first customers of the Lunch rush arrive. By the time I get a chance to look over to where Patrick and his friends were sitting, I see no one is there; there's nothing else to be done but wait to see if he shows up tonight.

Lunch rush drags on worse than it ever did when I first started 'working' here. It still ends all the normal time it does every day, it just feels like it lasted longer than it did. After some minor cleaning I am left with little to do but sit and wait, except when I have to get up and serve the occasional late customer. Alpha tries strike up a conversation by asking me about Patrick but I politely refuse. If it was any other day I'd love to tell her about him: I enjoy talking with her, even if having to write down everything more complex than a few simple phrases is annoying.

The more I think about our meeting tonight the stranger I feel about Patrick. Will he accept who the Jack he knew has become? Will he even show up?

On top of all of my worries a small voice in the back of my mind wonders if he'd find me attractive. Embarrassed at the entire concept, I squash the thought down as soon as it appears.

Even as slow as the day has gone so far, time does pass, and soon the first few people of the long dinner rush enter the establishment. Then in an instant it goes from a small trickle of people to a flood, to the point where we're so busy I don't have time to think about anything else.

As the dinner rush wanes I get nervous and start dropping things: a fork here, a plate there. As soon as Alpha notices my lack of grip, she rushes over to help me finish up. From the angle of her ears and the manner her tail seems to swish, it's fairly obvious that she's concerned.

~Scared?~ She asks me using a word I'd only learned this morning. I give a nod in response as she helps me bring the dirty dishes to the kitchen. After we leave the kitchen she gives me a quick and reassuring hug. From there we finish cleaning up the tables of spare dishes so the night janitor can do his job. Only then as a group do we go to the locker room so we can take our evening shower.

On the way to the shower room I can't remove my robe fast enough to get it over with. The faster I can get it done, the sooner I'll be able to go outside and see if Patrick is actually waiting for me. I only raise a few eyebrows, if bio-morphs had them, at how fast I disrobe and head for the shower room.

Inside I catch bits and pieces of a conversation between Red and Alpha over the noise of the water. Red says he wants to be there, just in case the person has bad intentions. Alpha disagrees and tells him I should meet Patrick alone at first, and to only come out if I want help. I also notice that while listening to their conversation, I've shampooed my tail three times already. The showers will turn off shortly so I hurry to finish up: I've learned the hard way that the soap is bad to leave in fur.

Once the showers turn off I grab some towels in the locker room and start drying my fur. It isn't long before the rest of the vixens gather around me and Alpha as we start the nightly communal grooming and fur drying session.

Within the group Alpha tries to give me some extra attention to allow me to dry faster, not that I mind. If it wasn't for the fact I'd nearly freeze outside in the chill of a March night I'd run out there soaking wet.

Clean and dry, I head over to my locker and put on a clean set of underwear and a fresh robe. This might be the last bit of clothing I will ever wear from this place if tonight goes well. To avoid causing a scene I wait for the others to finish dressing themselves. Together we leave the locker room into the chill of a march night.

Once in the holding pen connecting the building to our containers I stand and wait on the open pavement. The rest of Bio-Morphs pass me by, eager to get inside their residential containers and the warmth they provide. The last two Bio-Morphs to leave are Red and Alpha, walking side by side. Alpha walks up to me as Red makes sure the door into the restaurant is closed and locked. Red pets me on my head while Alpha gives me a hug and a small whine. Upon letting go they both head to their own residential container: the sound of their door closing signals that I am now alone. Letting out a sigh, I look around before walking over to the fence. As I walk I notice some extra weight in my robe... Checking the inside pocket I find a fresh pad of paper and a new pencil. Alpha must have slipped them in while she was hugging me. Damn she's a crafty vixen, I didn't know she could do that. Glancing up to their shared residential container, I give a small smile before continuing to the fence. I reach up and grasp it, letting my fingers pass through the holes in the chain links. The second I touch the fence someone on the other side switches on a small spotlight and bathes me and the surrounding area in artificial light. My eyes take time to adjust to the light: once they do, I see Patrick standing near the fence on the outside of our enclosure. He's wearing black jeans and a navy blue sweatshirt, presumably to make it harder to spot him in the dark.

As soon as I'm in the light I feel ashamed about how I look: my large breasts, decent shaped hips and legs are assets I know he would find attractive on someone without fur, ears and a bushy tail. The confusion on his face tell me that I wasn't what he was expecting, as does the way he starts looking around to see if there isn't someone else here. After a few moments his attention returns to me, as he most likely realizes I'm the only one out here.

"You must know Jack. You've seen him pass through here recently, or know where he is right now, don't you? Otherwise, you wouldn't have written that note."

While he speaks, Patrick watches me in a way that doesn't help my nerves one bit. I let go of the fence and reach inside the robe's pocket for the pad and pencil. This will have to be tactful, since if I'm too blunt I'll scare him away, but if I'm too light on details he'll think I'm leading him on. Cradling the pad in one hand, I write with the other as cleanly and neatly as I can:

'Your friend Jack is right here in this restaurant, more or less.'

Carefully I tear out the page, roll the piece of paper up, and slip it through the fence. Patrick removes the note, unrolls it and reads it. Then quickly directs whoever is using the light to scan the area.

"Jack! Are you in there? Its Patrick, your mother and I've been looking for you for nearly a year!"

Okay, that hurt my feelings a little since I'm standing right here. Patrick couldn't know that, but it still hurt. While he's yelling I hear a door opening, so my ears swivel in the direction before I look over. It's only Alpha: she's looking out from her doorway, most likely to see what's going on. Once she's satisfied I'm okay she closes the door again; it isn't long before the light is focused on me and Patrick again. Still, mother- no the old Jack's mother's still alive? Great! That's one of my questions answered, but there is the worry that she won't accept that her son is now her daughter and a Bio-Morph... That's a problem for later. What I have to do now is break the news to Patrick, and the only way I can think of now is to tell him directly. With trembling hands I write on the pad, rip the paper out, and stick it through the fence for him to read.

'I'm standing right here Patrick. The same Jack you grew up with, more or less... Please don't freak out and leave. It freaked me out when I woke up like this too after being converted. I only got over my hangups with what I am after being forced to admit that I will never be human or male again. Please, there should still be enough of the old Jack here to still be friends with you, and for you to help me escape from this place.'

As Patrick reads, I fold my arms in front of my chest and hug myself to help my growing nervousness at bay. I can't stop my ears from drooping, nor my tail from curling between my legs. It also doesn't help that Patrick nearly drops the note, then looks at me, then the note before looking back to me in surprise. I don't even have the will power to look at him after that.

The light doesn't move away from me as Patrick reads what I wrote, though I wish it would. With a lot of effort I look back up at him, only to see that he's stepped closer to the fence and is holding his hand against it. With extreme hesitation I reach up with my own hand and place it against his, mine is a lot smaller than his, so much so that it looks like a child's in comparison. Patrick smiles at me.

Does that mean... Oh HELL YES I think he believes me!

"Jack, I would never turn my back on a friend of mine... I just need a little more proof to convince my friends behind me help you. Can you tell me something that only the Jack I grew up with would know about? Particularly something embarrassing, them seeing me flustered should help."

Okay, maybe he doesn't believe me? How would that convince his friends I am telling the truth? While I'm thinking this over, his friends start the engine of the car parked a bit further behind him. The headlights bleed into to the light from the spotlight; I can see now that it's attached to said car. It must have been a former non-electric police car. The people inside look like the suits Patrick was with when he came in for food. Still, I know exactly I want to tell him if he still has doubts. I start writing down the incident in as much detail I can with the short amount of time I have available. He made me swear to never to tell anyone about this, but that promise doesn't matter now. It is my best bet to give him some evidence that I am who I say I am, or was in this case.

When we were in grade school both of us would raid local junkyards and such for anything to fix up and sell. At first it was to pay for the school lunches so we could have something to eat, later it was for candy and toys. As we got older, we became more specialized in what we worked on: I went for more electronics and computers equipment, Patrick liked working on small appliances, small engines, and motors in general. He's a basically a gear head.

One day, we were scavenging and we bit off more than we could chew: We hopped the fence of a 'richer' junkyard, only to find the place owned a gigantic mutt for a guard dog. Well, Patrick thought it was a mutt, to me it looked more like a giant mutant wolf at the time.

Whatever it was, it made off with Patrick's pants and most of his underwear as we were running back to the fence. While jumping the fence to get out of the place he snagged his shirt on the top and it tore off of him. If it wasn't for the fact the shirt was threadbare it would have kept him there hanging on the fence for that beast. Since Patrick was basically naked, we couldn't just casually walk back to our home at the jobless center without getting arrested. Instead we had to run to the nearest park a few blocks away, then hide in the bushes 'till the sun set before making a run for home.

Patrick made me promise - on threat that he'd kill me with his own hands - that I wouldn't tell a soul about that day, because as far as he was concerned, it didn't happen. Our parents never said a word, though I've suspected for a long time they knew about it: After all, our 'apartments' in the jobless center were so small, he couldn't hide coming home naked. The fact that we were never made fun of by the other kids meant they'd kept it to themselves at least.

Writing the incident down in as much detail as I can within what I hope is the limited time I have, I still take up about two pages, which I then gently tear out. Quickly I roll them up and push them through the fence to Patrick. I'm curious as to how he will react, so my ears are up and forward, and my tail twitches a little as I stare at him. Patrick uncurls the papers: his face turns beet red as he reads. His friends in the car look confused by his reaction, while I just stand there with a grin on my muzzle. I may not be the human Jack anymore, but I still find Patrick's reaction amusing: for a fleeting moment it's almost like we're back in grade school.

He quickly folds the papers in half and stuffs them into a pocket before looking at the others. "Can one of you get the bolt cutters? Jack's right here, he was converted." As he speaks to them he nods to me, one of the guys in the car shrugs at this. Patrick then faces me again.

"Alright buddy, just wait right there, we are going to get you out of here." He then turns and walks to the car's trunk. Bolt cutters? No! I know of a better way to get out, a way that won't leave any evidence. Making barking and yipping sounds, I shake the chain link fence to get Patrick's attention back: once I have it back, I hold up a finger before pointing to the pad and quickly jotting down what I want to tell him:

'I know a better way! Wait for me behind the residential containers and be ready to get this damn bracelet off of my arm!'

Patrick reads it before turning to the others to direct them to take the car to behind the containers. The car pulls a u-turn to reach the spot, while he walks the short distance on foot. I'm so ecstatic at finally escaping this horrible place I practically dance up the metal stairs to my former residential container... Only to find Alpha, Red, and- wait, is that Twelve with them? The other converted? They stand in front of my door politely blocking my way, I guess one of them must have overheard Patrick's side of the conversation. It's not like we'd had a need to be covert, since the cooks left for home while we were showering.

Red seems sad judging by his ears and tail drooping, along with his unwillingness to make eye contact with me. Alpha's ears and tail are also drooping like Red's but she at least makes eye contact with me, and her eyes have a happy look to them. Twelve just looks confused and tired. When I look back at Alpha she hands me a folded piece of paper and motions for me to open and read it.

'While I'm happy you're going to escape from here, it saddens us that we will no longer be able to enjoy your presence. We also fear how Christopher and his father will act when they find out you're missing in the morning. Because of this fear we do have one parting request for you. Can you take Twelve with you? She's never belonged here and has been suffering the whole time. In the last couple years she has become withdrawn into her own head other than the minimum needed to keep up the facade of being 'okay' up. You don't have to take care of her once you leave, just help her get some place where she can recover and away from whatever our owners will do once they find out.

Mauri and I will try to cover for both your absences while claiming we had no idea how you got out. Goodbye Jack, and good luck. Maybe one day we can see each other again, but I would just be happy knowing you're safe.'

Looking up at them I find that Alpha has already opened the door to my residential container. I give both Alpha and Red- no, I'll call him by his name now, Mauri - A nod before taking Twelve's hand and guiding her into my residential container. Once we enter, Alpha closes the door behind us and the heater clicks on.

Well, damn, now I don't know 'what' to think about this situation anymore. I'm happy about being able to escape from here - in fact, I practically dance over to the cot so I can retrieve the butter knife to open the fridge door - but now it's tinged with remorse since my escape will cause trouble for Alpha and Mauri. Whatever happens to them in the morning will directly be my fault. Yet the confused and broken look on Twelve's face provides me a stark reminder of what will happen to me if I refuse this chance just to spare them. I have to escape from here, but I promise myself that if I ever see them again I'll do whatever I can to make up for what they'll have to go through. I have to stop myself from carelessly ripping out the butter knife... If I'm going to escape I want to make Christopher wonder how I pulled it off.

I take the knife out carefully before proceeding to open the fridge's front door, take out the innards without having anything fall off the trays. Then I use it to open the back door of the fridge. Once in the maintenance section I turn around and coax Twelve to go through the fridge like I did. When we are both on this side of the wall I pull the innards of the fridge back in place and close the door. They're going to be wondering how this happened for days!

With the fridge back together and its door on this side of the wall closed, I open the residential container door to find the car idling with its lights off right beneath me. The faces of Patrick and the others show surprise, either from seeing me open the maintenance door or because I have another Bio-Morph with me. They don't complain about the extra Bio-Morph: if they did, I'd do everything I could to get them to take Twelve with me. I made a promise to Alpha and Mauri, and I intend to keep that promise to the best of my ability.

Before climbing down myself, I help lower Twelve down to Patrick as he waits on the ground bellow. The second my feet touch the cold pavement he gently grabs my arm with the tracking bracelet on it. He rotates the bracelet around until he reaches a certain spot, then takes out a strange looking device that looks like what the bastard lovechild of a tablet and a stapler. When Patrick inserts the part of the bracelet he was looking for into what would have been the teeth on a normal stapler, the screen turns on. A keypad appears a second later on the screen; he quickly enters in a few different combinations of five digit numbers before my bracelet loudly clicks and falls off.

Good god, how good does it feel to have that weight off of my arm!

Idly I rub the spot where it rested on my arm as he repeats the process using the one on Twelve's arm. Hers comes off far more quickly. Because Christopher was most likely lazy and set the same unlock code for all the bracelets here.

"Good, your tracker bracelets are off. Now quickly get into the car so we can get moving. We'll remove the RFID chips at the safe house, but your former owners will get a message that your bracelets have been deactivated. So we need to get as far away from here as possible before someone shows up." After stating the obvious Patrick quickly helps us into the crowded but freedom-filled back seat of this car.

He quickly shuts the car door once my tail is clear, Twelve has already found a place on the back seat. The driver barely waits till Patrick is in the front passenger seat and the door closed before driving off.