FSE

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A/N: Hey all, I have a fair amount of stories that I am uploading from anthologies that were cancelled or never happened/will happen. This is one of them! I haven't read this over in a few years so it's probably super rough.

Nostrum

Owen ran as fast as he could down the rain-slicked cobblestone streets. He faltered in a few places, scrambling with an intense desperation before finding the right footing and continuing in a mad sprint. He panted out in bursts, his breath permeating the air and rising up in wisps. The sound of the rain was dulled by his own heart's pounding and the echoing of footsteps. He couldn't be sure if he was being followed just yet, and did not want to risk a look back for fear of what he might see.

He ran until his legs were burning and his lungs sorely protested another heave of air. Owen turned down a small alleyway. It was then that he stopped and doubled over, clutching at his aching muscles. His tail hung limp behind him, rain-drenched and pressed uncomfortably against his dripping clothes. He coughed up a few strands of spit and something that resembled bile, and thought for more than once this evening that his plan was not a good idea. The sound of barking roused him from his rest and he pressed himself closer to the nearest building.

Across the opening to the street, a shadow flitted by. Owen held his breath, his fur standing on end in fear as the shadow took form. It was shaped like a feral dog, but when he looked closer Owen could see its clockwork insides. Pistons pumped and churned and gears turned and clicked as the mechanical dog threw its head back and released a jet of steam that was as high-pitched and awful as a scream. Owen's blood ran cold. He had heard of these creatures, artificial K-9 units created by the military for one purpose: seek and destroy.

Owen started moving backwards along the wall of the alleyway. He only hoped that the falling rain would be enough to drown out his scent and give him enough of a head start away from the clockwork dogs. He tore down the street at breakneck speed, not caring if his hurried footfalls echoed loudly on the cobblestone, or if the townsfolk who were still out at this hour whispered about such a strange jackal running like he was being chased by demons.

He didn't stop until he reached a small building. The windows were covered up and many of them were broken. The building looked dirty and grimy. Owen ran up the steps and threw open the door to this building, slamming it behind him before collapsing on the rotting wooden floor. As he regained his breath he heard footsteps and a small female voice call his name. Owen saw a petite bunny kneel beside him, placing a paw on his back.

The jackal rose to his feet slowly and shakily, acknowledging the woman with a grunt. "I'm fine, Tiah," he said, shouldering off her paw. She recoiled and looked at him with concern. He moved to the door and opened it slowly, peering out onto the dark street. The street lamps illuminated some of the drive, but not enough to make sure nothing followed him.

"Owen, what--" Tiah begin, but the jackal held up a paw.

"It's...nothing," said Owen. He had regained his composure and brushed off some of the dust that had clung to his fur. He reached into a pocket and retrieved a small blue box. He pushed a small button on the side. Gears turned and clicked and opened the box, revealing vials of an amethyst liquid. Owen offered the box to Tiah, who examined it carefully.

"Where did you get this?" she asked. Her voice barely more than a whisper.

"I took it," he answered. "From one of the clinics on the other side of town."

Tiah looked down at the single box and frowned. "They didn't have any more?"

"No," said Owen. "The clinic had already been shut down, and this was the only thing I could salvage."

Tiah sighed and clutched the box to her chest. Owen knew why she was so concerned. More and more people were starting to contract this illness. It was a plague that had raged for many years and was finally starting to grip the city. Medicine had been running scarce for weeks now, and it didn't seem like the government was likely to give any more without a hefty fine. He opened his mouth to try to say something to make her feel better but she shook her head.

"I'll give these to the children," she said, and turned to a different room. Owen watched her go, and then sighed.

He moved to a worn desk in the corner and looked around at the old clinic. It was dark and dingy with a layer of dust coating anything that wasn't essential to his practice or the care that Tiah offered his patients. With the bunny as his nurse, they had toiled to try to save as many people as they could. So far it seemed like mostly children had the fortitude to survive for more than a few weeks.

Owen sighed and was about to head to his room and catch up on some much-needed sleep when he heard a soft voice speak his name. He turned to see a small jackal girl. She was swamped in oversized clothes; hand-me-downs from Owen. Her hair was tangled in a mess behind her, while heavy bags hung under her eyes. Even under the dim light of the room, the patches of fur that were missing from her were easily visible. Her whole visage had a slight green tint to it, and it broke his heart to see his little sister look so sick.

Owen knelt down beside her, brushing her bangs back. "Hey, Tallie," he said gently. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"I heard Tiah say you were home," she answered. Her voice was just as frail as she was: soft and smooth, but wavering, like cracked glass.

"You should be resting, you're--" Owen began.

"I know I'm sick," she said. "I'm sick just like all the other kids are sick... just like Mama and Papa were sick..."

"Hush," he said firmly as he pet her hair. He hated hearing her talk about the illness; the same disease that had taken the lives of his parents and countless thousands around him. When he had found that Tallie was sick as well, he resolved to help her as much as he could. Only the rich could afford medication and treatment, and that had left the poor to wallow and die. Even as a doctor, he lacked the ability to do more than stall the illness. Not Tallie, he begged. Please not her. His face did not portray these emotions; he smiled for Tallie, and put his paws on her dainty, fragile shoulders.

"You need to get upstairs and go to sleep if you want to get better."

"I don't want to go to bed, I'm not tired," she pouted. "I wanted to play with the other kids but they're all asleep. When we get better I'll get to play a lot, right?"

Owen forced a brave smile. "Yes," he said. "I will make sure of it, but you need your rest."

"Thank you, brother," she said with a bright but tired smile. He wrapped his arms around her and noticed that she was trembling.

"Let's get you a blanket," Owen said. He released her and turned to find something to warm her up with when he heard a soft thud behind him. Thinking his sister accidentally knocked something over he looked behind him to see what it was. Tallie was slumped on the floor, her hair strewn around her.

"Tallie?" Owen's voice wavered, his eyes wide with fear. He took a numb step forward before calling her name again. When she didn't respond, he rushed forward and held her tightly to him. "Tallie!" He shook her lightly and held his ear to her face. Wisps of air greeted him, making his ear twitch and he breathed a small sigh of relief. She was still alive.

"Tiah?" he called out. "Tiah, come in here!" He heard the soft pitter-patter of the bunny's feet hitting the dusty carpet. She emerged into the doorway and looked down at the scene with a gasp.

"Is she okay?" Tiah asked, her voice frustrated and jagged from anxiety. Owen nodded, his ears drooping slightly.

"Yeah, she's still breathing. We need to get her the medication now."

Tiah went to work, darting for some needles and other healing items that would help. Owen saw another side of the usually reserved and soft-spoken bunny. She looked fierce and determined, like a mother tending to her young. He was reminded of how lucky he was that she was here. Normally this would be his responsibility, but he didn't think he could calm himself down to tend to his sister without causing her further harm.

"Bring her up here," Tiah commanded, heading up the stairs. Owen nodded and cradled his sister to his chest. He hurried up the stairs, making sure Tallie's head cleared the old wooden banister that led to the living space in the clinic.

He laid her out on small pile of clothes that served as a makeshift bed. Tiah brushed past him and fitted the vial into a syringe. Once Tiah was happy with it, she turned an eye to the jackal, who was wringing his tail nervously; a terrible habit he had retained from childhood.

"Owen, I know you want to stay but--"

"I'm not leaving her," he said fiercely.

"Owen," Tiah said sternly as she moved across the room and sifted through some medical gear. "I understand you want to help her. But I need space to work. Go wait outside and I'll let you know what's going on."

"Alright," Owen said, taken aback. He looked back at Tillie before sighing and exiting the room, opting instead to sit down next to the door. He hugged his tail to himself for comfort, playing with the hairs at its tip.

It was almost an hour before Tiah came out. Owen looked to the door as it opened.

"I did all I could," the bunny announced. Her ears were pulled down behind her back to be as out of the way as possible. "She's...stable. She'll live. I just don't know how much longer."

"What about the medication?" Owen asked angrily, standing to his feet. "What good did that do?"

"Owen, she'd be dead right now if it weren't for the medication you stole."

"It's not good enough!" the jackal shouted, balling his paws into fists. "I'm not losing her."

"What are you going to do, Owen?" Tiah asked. Her eyes shined with concern for him.

"The Aquillas Building," replied the jackal. It was a large government-funded medical building. They were heavily guarded but would have enough medicine for the children under their care Tiah stood in silence for a minute, too shocked to say anything. When she finally regained her composure, she looked at the ground sadly.

"I'm not going to be able to convince you otherwise, am I?" she sighed.

Owen shook his head. "No."

"Can you promise me one thing?" she asked.

"Sure," he said slowly.

"Be safe. Don't get caught. If things get too bad, run." She was sniffling.Owen wrapped his arms around her small frame and rocked soothingly, unsure of what to say in order to console her. She was afraid for him.

Owen smiled."I will. If Tallie wakes up, let her know that her big brother went to go make her better."

With that, Owen turned down the stairs, grabbing a long black coat as he went. He reached into a pocket and fished out a pair of goggles, wincing as the bands snapped snugly into place. He adjusted the dials on the sides until the night time street outside came into cleaner focus.

The jackal took one last look towards Tiah, who was watching him from the top stairs. He opened the door and he tried his best to smile confidently before opening the door and slipping into the cold night air. He had quite a ways to travel to get where he was going.

***

In the aftermath of the rainstorm, the air smelled acrid and metallic to his nose. A thick haze descended upon London, masking its windy streets with a tireless fog. As Owen ran, he felt his lungs burn and his muscles scream for rest. When he came to a stop he was standing outside of a large building. Owen tensed, drawing his trench coat closer to his fur. The building was a black obelisk in the darkness of London. He circled around it a few times.

"Now to get in," he muttered, fishing around in his pockets. His fingers closed around an oblong metal device that was smooth to the touch. It was about as large as his palm, and grooved to fit his fingers. He closed his right paw around it, flicking open the top of the metal. It revealed two prongs that danced with electricity. The glow from the sparks bathed him in an ethereal glow that jumped and flickered. It wasn't perfect light, but it would help him not trip over his own two paws.

He moved around to the side of a building, holding up his light to find any way in. This building was designed differently than the government clinic he had stolen from mere hours ago. While the facility was maintained and protected by the government it still had a few flaws in the security: holes, ways in, paths unchecked. It was in this manner Owen had broken into the other clinic. There had to be some sort of gap, some sort of leeway like -

"We have a winner," Owen whispered, grinning as his gloved hand roamed over a small window. It was large enough that he could wiggle himself through the opening. He pressed at it, trying to wedge it open enough to slip through. With a large thud and the sound of cranking gears, the window gave in and slowly started rising. The jackal huffed as he raised the heavy window higher until he could slide in.

Once he was through, he let the window go and it snapped shut with a resounding boom that echoed through the warehouse. Owen froze, ears perked and twitching for any sign that the noise had been heard. He held his breath, frozen on the spot. When it was clear that no one had heard the sound of his intrusion, he exhaled.

The lab was lit by arcs of electricity that bounced and crackled in glass tubes. The tubes ran down the hallway, bathing the entire room in a blue glow that matched Owen's own device. He moved forward cautiously, ears still searching for any noise.

As the jackal moved down the hallway, he noticed a door with an orange glow and the sound of chattering. He moved carefully down the hallway, aware of ever so slight changes in the sound. For now, they seemed to be pleasantly talking. When he moved closer the quiet, guttural sounds of their voices became clearer and he could make out the words. He edged towards the doorway and perked his ears to catch what they were saying.

"Absolute bull, is what I call it!"

"Aye, and a shame too. All those people..."

"Ah, don't tell me you're gettin' soft," the voice snapped back. Owen moved closer to the doorway. He could only hear two people in the room.

"Soft? Me? All I'm saying is that it's a lotta people that gots killed. T'ain't their own fault, neither," the second guy responded.

"Aye," said the first guy. "But it's nothin' to do about it. Peoples dying off the streets, they is. Bad fur, bad bodies. Can't get no work outta them. So they jus' die."

"But to lock em in here together..."

"They're gonna round up all the sick people so there's no one left and they all die together. The rest of us'll be much safer."

"I s'pose," the second one said and was quiet.

Owen leaned over the doorway so he could see. The guards were facing away from the door and still talking amongst themselves. Owen tuned them out and instead tried to size them up. They were both burly, pot-bellied Settlers, already touched with gray on the muzzle. The jackal heaved a silent sigh of relief. At least if it came down to it, he would be able to outrun them. As he scanned the room some more he noticed a pile of what looked like clockwork and machinery. When Owen looked closer he recoiled in shock and horror. The heap was one of the autonomous clockwork canine units, curled up and feigning sleep. Their bodies didn't require any rest or sustenance as far as Owen knew. He held his breath and tried not to make any sudden noises that might alert the mechanical contraption that he was there.

Moving as silently as he could to make sure he wasn't spotted or heard, he padded across the doorway. Once he was across the threshold he heaved a sigh of relief. He chanced a glance behind him. The settlers were still talking rather raucously. They didn't seem to notice Owen. As the jackal started to move further down the hallway he saw a shadow flit by the doorway.

Owen whipped around just enough to see the tail of the mechanical canine whip by. He heard it stretch; gasping and groaning, like the sound of metal screeching on metal. It eventually settled down again. The jackal breathed another sigh of relief.

There were no sounds around him save for the faint crackling of the electricity as it ran down the wall, illuminating his path for him. He passed a few hallways and doors that, when tested, were locked tight. This building had a lot of curious things in it, none of which were what he was after.

He pushed on, heading down corridors at random. He was surprised at the lack of security deeper into the building. Were those two guards the only ones in the building? Owen thought. They must not be worried about intruders. Figures...almost everyone outside is too sick to do much of anything of use. Still, I need to be cautious. Who knows what is down here...

Suddenly a lot more on edge, Owen slowed his gait down the corridors. Things felt wrong. Too quiet, as if the calm before the storm. He slowly drew the wrench he had been keeping in his pocket, prepared for anything. As he kept walking, he finally came across what he was looking for: a large area in the back of the building that they used for shipping mass quantities of the medicine.

It was empty.

There was nothing in the large crating facilities.

"Damn it!" Owen yelled, slamming his hand against the floor. The resulting thud echoed in the large room. This was the only chance he had. Without the medicine that was supposed to be here...he didn't want to think of it. There were so many people who needed to get help.

All of the doors were firmly boarded and sealed with complex locking mechanisms. Owen could probably figure out how to unlatch it, but he didn't want to risk spending the time. Besides, he thought, there could be alarms on those doors.

The jackal started to head back the way he came, down the long hallway back to the window he had managed to pry open when he was suddenly knocked aside. When he looked up he saw an otter in a lab coat running past Owen and down the hallway. Owen stared at him, dumbfounded, before he looked down the path the otter came. The two guards from earlier, as well as a pack of mechanical canine units were heading down the hallway.

Owen's eyes widened with surprise and fear. He ran after the otter. If he was running, he might know a way out. Owen's heart was thundering in his ears as he ran, adrenaline giving him a slight edge over the autonomous dogs. Ahead of him, the otter turned a corner down a hallway Owen had not gone down before it opened up into a large atrium.

The lobby of the Aquillas Building was large and almost overwhelming. Owen ignored the scenery and instead focused on the rudder of the otter in front of him as he tore past the small desk and towards the metal door that led to the outside. Gears and intricate metal pieces adorned the door. The otter approached it and turned a large gear-shaped knob, it swung outward to reveal the smoggy night of London.

When Owen passed through the door, he looked ahead at the otter. He was already running down the cobblestone street, weaving around puddles left by the storm. Without casting a glance behind him in fear of seeing those mechanical hounds behind him, Owen ran after the otter. If someone else was so keen to run away from them, they might be the jackal's best chance. Besides, he thought. The enemy of my enemy is my friend.

Owen followed this mysterious otter down the streets for what seemed like hours, but was probably only a dozen or so minutes. His heart was pounding in his heads and legs starting to become weary and sore for the second time that day. Ahead of him, the otter turned down an alleyway. Swinging his contraband behind him, Owen ducked into the alleyway where the otter had stopped to catch his breath. At the sound of Owen's approaching footsteps, the otter drew a gun from his coat, pointing it at the jackal.

"Easy," Owen said instantly, raising his paws up to let the otter know he was unarmed and uninterested in harming.

Owen took the time to get a good look at the otter. He was svelte and lean, a small compacted frame that was standard for a creature that spent a lot of its time in the water. He also wore a magnifying monocle over his right eye; the frames were pushed up in order for him to run better. After a brief moment of inspection, Owen extended a paw.

"I'm Owen."

"Why did you follow me?" the otter snapped.

"Well, hey--I figured, we're both trying to escape from the same place..." Owen said.

"What were you even doing in there?"

"Medicine," he said. The word left a bad taste in his mouth.

"You don't look ill," the otter commented.

Owen shook his head. "I'm not. It's my sister..."

"I'm sorry."

"What about you?" Owen asked. "What were you doing there?"

The otter produced a small book from one of his pockets. "This," he held up the book. "Is the cure."

"What do you mean?" Owen asked.

The otter lowered his gun and held the book out for Owen to read.

Owen snatched the book out of the otter's paws and scanned the pages of the book. "This formula is different than the one we were handing out to the people who were sick."

The otter nodded. "What you have is something the good government doctors brewed up. It'll keep the illness at bay for a little bit, but it will never completely cure it."

At Owen's look of shock and slight disgust, the otter looked away from him but continued. "The government figured it was too expensive to produce, but not as expensive to create mass quantities of little more than a placebo."

Owen held up his gloved paws to his ears. "Stop," he shouted. He was shaking with anger and disgust. "I don't want to hear any more." The otter remained silent, looking away from him in a slight mixture of empathy and shame. "I have kids. Little kids I'm trying to help get better. They're sick and they're dying, and you're telling me that the government doesn't care at all? I have been out there every day trying to treat people!" Owen slammed his fist against the brick wall of the alleyway and was silent.

"Did they even make a cure?" Owen asked after he had regained his composure. "What happens if one of those government people got sick?"

"That's why I was there tonight. Before I officially left for the day, I disabled most of the security in the building." Owen looked taken aback. He had thought it was strange that they were so lackluster in security, especially as high-tech as that facility was supposed to be. "I stole the blueprints for the cure. We never make any or keep it around until it's actually needed. I couldn't just sit there with the knowledge that we could save many people from dying."

"So where do we go from here?" Owen asked. He needed to get the 'medicine' back to Tallie. Even if it wouldn't cure her outright, at least it would buy her some time.

"I leave the city," said the otter. "Rally some other people and try to come back and...help as many people as I can."

"How will you manage that? There hasn't been a train in or out of the city in weeks."

"There's a transport training leaving tonight. It's going take whatever supplies are remaining and send them off."

"Remaining? I can't imagine much is left. We've salvaged all we can afford and stolen what we couldn't."

"I know," the otter said and looked down. They were quiet for a few moments before Owen spoke up.

"Look," said the jackal, "If what you say is true...well, I'm going to have to figure out some way to help my sister." He held out his hand to the otter. "You seem like you want to help others too, or else you wouldn't put your life on the line. But I'm asking you...please help me cure her."

"I..." the otter said, looking at the jackal's proffered paw. He considered the book in his pocket, and then the jackal's paw. He placed his own in it.

"I'm Ben."

---

Together they moved even slower through the streets now, wary of any noise or any sign that would alert the clockwork hounds that were patrolling the area. They did not see anyone else as they roamed through the city. Most people were holed up in their homes, too sick to move or too paranoid of catching the disease to go outside. Gyrating loudspeakers hovered throughout the streets, a monotone voice buzzing in the air of the night.

"A QUARANTINE HAS BEEN ISSUED FOR ALL OF LONDON. PLEASE DO NOT LEAVE YOUR HOMES. A QUARANTINE HAS BEEN ISSUED FOR ALL OF LONDON. PLEASE..."

Owen shook his head as the confused and the unwell citizens scurried back behind their doors. Those who were too weak to move were being tugged up by police officers wearing surgical masks and thrown in the general direction of their homes.

Owen and Ben watched on with horror. The police force that hadn't gotten sick usually avoided the people, and only came out when they were absolutely necessary to control the peace. Now this...it was sickening, Owen decided.

"We have to help them," Ben said.

Owen shook his head. "As badly as I want to, there's no helping them... but I need to get to my sister as soon as possible."

When they got to Owen's clinic, Tiah was sitting in a chair watching over the rows of beds. She looked up at the sound of the door opening.

"Tiah," Owen said. "How is Tallie? And the rest of them?"

Tiah looked at Ben for a minute before answering. "They're doing okay. She's been asking about you. Did you get the medicine?"

"I'll explain everything in a minute. We need to leave town tonight."

"They've started the quarantine? The city's going to be in lockdown?" she asked, her voice high and fearful. Owen nodded.

"They're rounding everyone up. We won't be able to escape the city once the lockdown is complete. There's a final transport leaving that we can take. Can everyone be moved?"

Tiah looked troubled and stared at the beds. "If we're careful, then yes. How did you know about the train?"

"I bribed the conductor earlier," said Ben, straightening his goggles. "Leaving the station isn't going to be a problem. The issue is getting there."

Owen looked at his wrist, where a tiny ornamental watch was fastened. The ticking gears were visible, and the face was worn and slightly rusted. It read a little after 10:30.

"Well," said the jackal. "The station isn't too far away. It's about five blocks." He turned to Tiah. "Get everything ready to go."

***

The night air of London was cold and snapping. The mist and fog that had clung to the town was as thick as ever and impeded their sight. Owen and his party went very cautiously through the town. The police cars roamed up and down the cobblestone streets, their loud airhorn message blasting into the night air. Framing the cars were those hideous mechanical hounds, growling and snapping. The sound was like grating metal.

After a few blocks of walking, they came up to the station. A police checkpoint was already set up, turning away anyone that got close. Sometimes with a little more than a verbal threat. Owen motioned for everyone to stop. He hugged a brick wall to his left, sidling around the corner to watch the checkpoint. Barricades were set up, arcs of lightning shifting this way and that, except for a small doorway-sized gap between them. The lightning crackled and snapped, the light mixing with the moonlight to cast a soft diffuse over the cobblestones. Owen frowned as he watched the checkpoint. Beyond it, people were loading crates into one of the carriages.

Ben walked slowly up towards Owen.

"The carriage behind the head car is used for the conductor's belongings. There's enough room for us there."

"How do we get there?" Owen asked, frowning. Ben considered the checkpoint for a moment.

"There's only two guards on the train."

"Only two guarding this place?" Owen asked, surprised.

"There's not exactly opposition in the land of sickness and death," Ben said dryly. "And most of the police and militia are gone; the only ones left will be taking this train back. That's why they have the K-9 units."

"So how do you recommend we get onto the train?" asked the jackal. "Even if we try booking it through, the children can't run and we can't carry them all."

"We're going to need a distraction," said the otter, a twinkle in his eye. Owen did not like that look one bit.

"What are you planning?" he asked, suspicious. Ben fished into his coat to produce the gun that he had aimed at Owen only a few hours previously. He offered it to Owen, who frowned but took it. The metal felt heavy in his hand. He had never fired a gun before.

"What exactly are you asking me to do?" Owen said. "I can't take on four guys -- not to mention those bloody hounds -- with a gun. They've got guns too, and I suspect they're much more keen to use them, and probably much better shots!"

"The element of surprise can afford you one, maybe two shots," Ben said. Owen looked down at the gun in his paw.

"I've never taken a life before," he whispered.

"You've seen plenty of death," challanged the otter.

"Never at my own hands," Owen hissed. He felt sick; he wanted to throw the gun away and be done with this whole thing.

"Look," said Ben. "You've done what you had to in order to survive, right? Stealing from people, breaking and entering...hell, you broke into a government building. They'd hang you on the spot for that! You have to do what is necessary in order to continue to survive."

The jackal exhaled loudly. The otter had a point. He watched Tallie, who was talking quietly to the other kids. Knowing her, she was probably trying to cheer them up. In the moonlight she looked even more fragile and pale. The jackal shook his head and mumbled. "What is necessary..."

He turned to Tallie, who was busy bundling up one of the children who had the most advanced case. She had not heard their exchange, and looked up questioningly when he put a paw on her shoulder.

"I'm going to go on ahead. Whatever happens, you need to get them onto that train. I will join you as soon as I can." The bunny nodded, a look of grim determination marring her features. She understood the gravity of their position. He smiled briefly. He was glad that she was there.

He knelt down where Tallie was and brushed a lock of her hair out of her face. "I'll be back. Be strong for your big brother, okay?"

She nodded, hugging him as tightly as she could. He smiled warmly, resting a paw on the small of her back. Removing himself from the embrace, he held the gun underneath his trenchcoat. With a new sense of purpose, he walked towards the checkpoint.

It wasn't long before he was seen.

"Hey, who is this kid?" one of them asked. Owen walked up to the guard: a rotund bulldog in a tight police uniform. The dog narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to say something. Owen did not give him a chance to speak, he raised the gun and shot point blank. His paw snapped back from the recoil and he winced. The bulldog slumped forward onto the ground. Attracted by the sound of the shot, the other guard stopped loading and ran up to the checkpoint. Upon seeing Owen with his gun raised, he fumbled for his own weapon. Owen raised the gun and shot once more. This one managed to catch the guard and he slumped forward.

Suddenly one of the robot dogs approached, growling slightly. Without warning, it bridged the distance between the jackal, jumping into a tackling pounce.

The clockwork beast landed on him, ripping and biting with much more force than an organic creature could. It grabbed a hold of his vest and twisted its head to the side, ripping his vest from him. Before the dog could attack again, Owen planted his feet against its chest and kicked up with all of his might. The dog was pushed from his body and landed in a confused sprawl on the ground in front of him. He sprang up and backed away from the checkpoint.

"Crap," he muttered under his breath. "I should have had a better plan than this!" He panted as the adrenaline started flooding his system. He darted down the alleyway, onto an empty street, and headed east, away from the train station. He had to lead his pursuers away from the train long enough for Tiah to get everyone safely on board. Behind him he could hear the officers shouting "stop!" and "put your hands up!" He scoffed at them and leapt over a cart. Behind him, three clockwork dogs were on his heels.

Owen could see lights ahead, and he gasped to himself as he saw the river come into view. Thinking quickly, he put the last of his energy into a mad sprint towards the river. He could feel the soreness in his legs as he vaulted onto the guard rail. As he landed, he felt a sharp pain in his back. One of the clockwork dogs had taken a swipe, scratching through his trench coat and vest and cutting into his back. The force from the swipe sent him toppling over the edge with the beast, the other two springing in after him.

He landed into the water with an anticlimactic splash.

Under the water, he could feel the clockwork jaws close around him. The weight of the creatures was driving him to the bottom of the water. Owen kicked and struggled, but the combined grip and weight of the clockwork dogs held him fast. He wriggled the best he could against the dog's grip. With a powerful yank of his arm, he freed one limb from their clutches. Around him, the dogs seemed to be slowing. Their red eyes dimmed and eventually went out.

Owen thrashed, feeling the need for air even more. Disentangling himself from the remains of the dogs, he kicked up until he broke the surface. The jackal gasped loudly, pawing towards the wall of a bridge nearby that had more steady footing above water. He spluttered and panted, looking back at the spot where the clockwork dogs were slowly sinking to the bottom.

He stood there in the water for a few more minutes before turning his wrist to try and check his watch. The gears were stuck and filled with water. The clock was stopped at 11:43. "Guess that's when I hit the water," he muttered. He looked out into the night sky of London before trying to find something to get back up on the bridge.

He spotted a ladder and waded over to it, gripping the cool metal before hoisting himself up. It didn't seem like the police were watching him now, and assumed that he had drowned with the clockwork dogs. He collapsed onto the cool, damp stone of the bridge before lifting himself to his feet.

His back was still sore; the wound from the metallic claws was still seeping into his trench coat. He shouldered off the heavy, wet material, sighing in satisfaction when the weight fell to the ground. His shoulders ached. Now Owen was left in only a torn green vest and white undershirt, both still dripping wet with water and blood.

He started to run towards the train station. As it came into view, he breathed a sigh of relief. Tiah and Ben were just climbing into one of the carriages.

"You look like you've been through hell," Ben said. The otter was still smiling though, and Owen returned the smile with a tired one of his own. He was sore and tired and ready to sleep for days when this whole ordeal was over. He climbed into the train with the rest of the passengers and looked back at the view of London. There was still so many people to save...and he knew that he would come back and help them all.

The train whistled, a plume of smoke rising into the night air as the train lurched forward, and then started to pick up the pace. Owen looked around at the tired, sickly faces of the children under his care, and then at Tiah and Ben who were caring to them.

"What else did they store on the train?" Owen wondered. "Anything we can use, like blankets or pillows?"

Ben looked up from the child he was helping. "I'm not sure. I only knew about it from some of the manifests from Aquillas. There might be something worth looking into."

Owen nodded but didn't say anything. He moved up and opened the sliding metal door that divided departments, wincing as every effort strained his wounds. The train had started to pick up a nice pace. The jackal opened the divider into the next carriage. It was pitch black, not even holes in the side of the metal to allow light through. The jackal fumbled into his pocket for a lighter and flicked it open.

In this compartment, row after row of the mechanical canines were resting. On his arrival, their red eyes lit of up and the stretched. The sound of metal scratching on metal filled the air. Owen's eyes opened in horror as he struggled to close the sliding metal door. It was too late; one of the dogs had pounced forward and dug its vice-like bite into his legs. Owen yelped in pain as the fangs cut deep. He tried to shake off the dog to no avail.

The commotion had summoned Ben and Tiah, who gasped in horror.

"Close to the door!" Owen shouted. Another dog had pushed through the door and grappled his other leg. The jackal lost his balance and fell backward, his head inches from the connector beam between the two carriages. Ben reached forward, trying to reach for Owen and pull him from the dogs' grasp. Another one came from the carriage and latched onto the jackal's arm.

"No, no, it's no good!" Owen cried, blood pouring from his wounds. He groped for the latch on the connector beam holding the two carriages together. One of the dogs attached to him clawed out, its metal talons tearing through his flesh like butter. The dogs started to drag him into the carriage, and he felt himself sliding into the dark. His fingers found the latch he was looking for and forced it open. With a screeching sound, the carriages broke apart, with the head car and the carriage Tallie, Ben, and Tiah were in still moving while the rest of the train slowed down on the tracks.

The dogs dragged him harder into the carriage where the others were waiting. A few of them tried to slip through the open door and jump the gap towards where the others were, but Owen reached out with his one good arm and swatted them back

Ahead of him, he could see Ben, Tallie, and Tiah screaming for him, horrified. He reached out for his sister, and yelled to Ben and Tallie.

"Watch out for her! Keep her safe and make her better!"

With a final tug he was pulled into the cart. His hands groped for the latch of the metal door and he slid it shut. And then there was darkness.