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The following morning, Cas arrived at Troika's apartment long before his alarm clock was set to go off. The red fox wore a black T-shirt with a large logo of the Deathbed rock band printed on it in white on both sides.

"Good morning sunshine!" he shouted when Troika opened the door.

"Ugh, sunshine indeed," the cat muttered as the light from outside pierced his eyes. He quickly shielded his eyes from the light and squinted to see his friend's face.

"Come on, dude, show your enthusiasm! Today's the most exciting day of your life!"

"Uh-huh." Troika yawned, rubbing his eyes and wrinkling his nose. His whiskers swayed slightly before they straightened back to normal. "But it's still six in the morning, Cas. Didn't you say you were coming to pick me up at nine? If you meant Eastern Time, you should've said so."

Cas smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, I changed my mind--I was hoping we could get a head start. We should grab breakfast to-go at a nearby Lardy's and drive directly to the Fest. We can eat on the way in my car. There should be parking space at nearby lots if we go early, so I don't have to park the car miles away." His gaze then slid down to Troika's lower body. "But ah...do you need a few minutes to take care of that?"

Troika felt his ears turn warm as he hid his crotch with his paws. Something warm and hard was down there, and the last thing he wanted was to have his friend tease him for it.

"Shut up, you perv!" he shouted, slamming the door in Cas's smirking face.

The two got in Cas's car, a ten-year-old dark-blue hatchback which shook slightly when it accelerated past sixty-five miles per hour. The drive was as pleasant as could be for a sunny July morning in California. Biting into his breakfast sandwich made of baked eggs, cheese, and sausage placed between two halves of an English muffin, Troika watched the vast landscape that spanned for miles around them. Cas was also eating his sandwich, holding the sandwich with his left paw and controlling the steering wheel with his right.

The radio channel which usually played pop music from the Billboard Top 100 now played some oldies from nearly half a century ago. Perhaps this music selection aimed at catering to the early morning drivers, most of whom were of an older generation than Cas and Troika. Cas asked if he should change the channel to one that played something more contemporary, but Troika declined. He felt that the older music fit the barren landscape around them quite well.

Seeing how the calico cat seemed transfixed at the scenery, the red fox on the driver's seat commented playfully, "You look like a toddler taking his first field trip outside the city, Troy. It's not your first time on the 15, is it?"

Without taking his gaze off the mountains that loomed far in the distance, Troika took a sip of his coffee which he bought at Lardy's. "I drove here plenty of times before. But each time the landscape shows a different view, you know?"

"Nah, I don't," Cas said, a little flatly. "It all looks the same to me. Just a boring nothingness spread across thousands of acres. No ocean, barely any plants, nothing green as far as eyes can see."

"I mean, the mountains and the road are the same, sure, but everything else is different during each trip. The weather, the music playing in the radio, the destination, and the ones you're driving with. I think those things make each trip special."

"Wow, and now you speak like a lit major."

"Which kind? Shakespeare? Jane Austen? Or John Fuckin' Fitzgerald?"

The fox guffawed at the last one. "Someone's bitter about Johnny!"

"I wasn't best friends with my high school English teacher in senior year. He gave me hell when we had to do a finals paper on The Great Gatsby, and I hate the author to this day."

"Aw, that sucks. I thought they were tolerable. Not something I'd ever reread, though, unless I had someone pointing a gun at my head."

"I guess I was more of a math-and-science guy. I liked how there are right and wrong answers in those subjects. But English literature is like... you have to understand what the teacher wants you to say and write, based on the books that we read. They always had some sort of expectations for you, and if you say anything that they didn't expect you to say, they get upset and give you bad grades. I've always hated that part about the humanities classes. Didn't you think it was stressful, observing and trying to guess what the adults wanted you to be?"

Cas shrugged. "I was used to that. Growing up in a religious family gives you the ability to read others' faces."

Troika looked at Cas. "Wait, you never told me that. Which religion?"

"Eastern Orthodox."

The calico cat grinned mischievously at the fox. "Does that mean I can call you an 'Ortho-Fox'?"

"Sure, if you want my fist shoved up your ass," replied Cas, giving a smile back to the cat. "Seriously though, I was never really a devout follower, and now I don't even follow that religion anymore. I'm done with those things."

A short silence followed as Troika waited for the fox to continue. He didn't, so Troika asked, "Do you want to share why?"

Cas hesitated for a moment, opened his mouth slightly, but then shook his head. "Not yet. I don't wanna think or talk about it. Maybe soon, when I get things sorted out in my head."

"Sure, of course. But if you want help getting your thoughts organized, let me know. That's what friends are for."

Cas turned his head slightly toward Troika--their eyes met for a split second before the fox returned his gaze to the road ahead. In that moment, Troika thought he had seen a slightly pained expression in his friend's eyes. But it was gone the next second, and Cas was smiling again, his warm golden eyes matching the color of the barren landscape around them.

"Yup, I will," Cas said. "Thanks for being such a good pal, Troy. I honestly don't know where I'd be right now if I hadn't met you at the factory."

"I'm sure you would've been fine," Troika replied. "You're smart and hardworking. I'm sure you'll do well wherever you work, especially with that college degree of yours."

"Oh, please!" the fox sneered. "Four-year degrees aren't worth shit these days. It's just a piece of paper that you can frame on the wall if you want. I don't."

"I thought you had better job prospects when you had a Bachelor's."

"That's what they want you to think." Cas sighed, sipping the last drops of coffee before tossing the empty cup back into the plastic bag which he had strapped to the gear lever to use as a garbage bag. "The recession really screwed things up for me. For all of us."

Troika didn't know what Cas meant by "us"--was it his friends in college, was it everyone who graduated in the same year as he did, or was it his family? But he decided not to ask, because he saw that once again the fox's face had a slight shadow cast upon it, like a storm cloud lingering in the sky and waiting to release lightning and rain in all its glory.

Returning his gaze to the scenery outside, Troika noticed almost no change in the landscape since the two left the town some while ago. He didn't know how long had it been since they left, but he saw that the sun was high up in the sky now, no longer glaring into his hazel eyes like it did earlier in the morning. And it was at that moment that the radio, which was still playing oldies from an epoch long past, began the symbolic intro to the Eagles' iconic masterpiece, "Hotel California."

He couldn't have thought of a more fitting song to listen to while driving on Interstate 15 passing through the desert. The moment the guitar theme started playing, he was brought back to the time he first rode the van through this very desert, driven by his Uncle Mack, a middle-aged Siberian tabby cat.

That day, Uncle Mack had picked him up and drove him down south so they could live together in Lagarra. During the four-hour drive, they barely spoke, because Uncle Mack was a cat of few words and because Troika, who was nine years old back then, was in no mood to strike up a conversation with a relative whom he met only once or twice before his mother passed away.

Because of that, the only thing Troika could do during the drive was to watch the other cars pass by or to stare at the vast landscape spanning beyond the edge of the highway. Neither of these activities was particularly entertaining by any means, but he nevertheless pretended to enjoy them to avoid having to be engaged in an awkward conversation with his uncle. And as far as he knew, Uncle Mack didn't seem to mind at all, or might have even appreciated the silence which befell upon the duo, with the only sound within the van coming from the speakers playing the oldies music from the radio.

Uncle Mack seemed to like this channel a lot, often humming along with the tune. As the day wore on, the sun moved lower toward the horizon. By the time it kissed the top of a distant mountain, everything the sun touched turned orange, and the rest of the scenery that wasn't blessed with its golden touch darkened to black. The landscape surrounding him resembled the hide of a tiger, the orange-colored ground being speckled with the black shadows of rocks and cacti.

At that moment, the radio started playing "Hotel California," and the forlorn guitar that began the piece seemed to echo inside the van.

Then, his uncle suddenly spoke up: "Hey, Troika."

This came at a complete surprise to him, because he hadn't expected his uncle to talk to him until they were at the uncle's house, where the boy was to live starting that day. But the older cat was now calling his name, and the tone of the voice with which he spoke frightened the boy a little. It was so solemn, quiet, and yet powerful.

"I know you're nervous about living with me in a town you've never been to before," his uncle continued. "But I want you to know that I'm always here for you. I promised Galina--your mother--that I'll protect you and provide for you until you come of age. And as a Siberian, I never break a promise."

The older cat stopped talking, waiting for his nephew to respond. Troika didn't know what to say, so he only nodded. Uncle Mack smiled and patted his head.

"Good, good... We'll be home soon, Troika. Our home from now on."

The shadow spread out across the land, its long black fingers extending and wrapping around everything in sight. Uncle Mack's words seemed to resonate inside his head as the landscape got darker and darker...

---

"Troy?"

The voice calling from right next to him brought Troika's attention back from reminiscing. He blinked a few times and recognized that they were at a gas station, with the gold-colored eyes of his red fox friend peering through the window at him. "Troy," Cas called again. "Do you want something from the store?"

Troika sat up, rubbing his eyes with his paw. "I... I guess I'm a little thirsty." He looked down at the three empty bottles of water by his feet. "Can you grab a few bottles of water? I think we finished all the bottles we brought with us."

Cas nodded and went inside the store. When he came out, he was holding an entire case of bottled water, two dozen of them in all. "This should last us a while," the fox said as he placed the case on the backseat. "Believe me, you don't wanna buy drinks at any store close to the Fest. You'll spend enough money to be able to buy yourself a summerhouse on the beach."

When Troika asked how far they still had to drive to reach the destination, Cas assured him that they were halfway there, and it would take around two more hours according to the navigator. Seeing that his watch showed half past eight, Troika deduced that they had been driving for two hours already, even though he felt they drove for only half that time.

"What were you daydreaming about, anyway?" Cas asked, turning on the engine after the hatchback's fuel tank was filled. "You were totally out of it. I called you three times when we arrived at the gas station to fill the tank, but you didn't seem to hear me at all."

"I guess I was still drowsy because some inconsiderate fox interrupted my much-needed sleep at six-fucking-o'clock in the morning."

"Come on, I already apologized about that! Besides, I was too excited to get much sleep last night and couldn't wait to go to your place."

"Great, and you're driving now for four hours straight after not having adequate sleep the night before," Troika said, throwing up his arms in the air in mock exasperation. "Please don't get us killed, Cas. I don't want to die until I at least reach the breakeven age of social security benefits to get back what I had paid in taxes!"

"Ha! Good luck living until you're two hundred years old, then," Cas teased. "But don't worry, my driving is as safe as ever, since I'll load myself with so much caffeine I could fly."

In his paw was a paper cup with steaming coffee which he had bought from the store at the gas station just now. The red fox took a sip from the cup and grimaced.

"What in the sweet name of Jesus did they put in this concoction?" he said in disgust, sticking his tongue out. "I've never had a coffee before that tasted bitter and sour and spicy at the same time!"

"Ah, nothing like the gas station gourmet coffee. They might have been brewing that thing on the stove for ages, who knows?" Taking a sip out of his own cup, Troika looked at the rearview mirror.

The fox noticed him looking at the mirror. "Something wrong?"

Troika hastily shook his head. "Ah, no, it's nothing. I thought I saw something pass by, must've been a bird, or something." Then, changing topic, "I didn't know you were so excited to go to the Fest that you would lose sleep over it, Cas."

"Nah, it's not the Fest." Cas placed the paper cup back in the cupholder. "It's you. I couldn't sleep because I was so excited to be able to attend the Fest with you, Troy. Every year I've been going by myself but this year, you're going with me. And that makes it so special."

"Wow." Troika could feel his ears warm up a little. "It's awfully nice of you to say that about me. You could have invited me last year if you wanted to."

The fox shook his head. "You and I barely knew each other back then. You were still just an instructor for my job and not a friend yet."

"Oh, I remember." At that, Troika briefly thought about when he first met Cas.

Troika started working at the Nutz-en-Boltz immediately after he got his Associate's from the local community college. Although he initially didn't have any intention to attend higher education and wanted to start earning money right away after graduating high school, Uncle Mack persuaded him to attend the community college in order to have a better chance at getting a decent job to support himself.

Then, two years later, Cas was hired at the factory and Troika, who by that time was well-acquainted with all the machines in the factory and could troubleshoot most problems by himself, was chosen by the manager as the new-hire's instructor. The both got their degrees in the same year, but Cas's was a Bachelor's instead of an Associate's like Troika's. As such, Cas was two years older than he was, and the age difference made Troika feel slightly awkward for having to instruct him. This was because Troika had initially thought that an animal who had a four-year degree tended to look down on someone with only a two-year degree, and also an older animal tended to look down on anyone younger than them. And since Cas fit both of these criteria, Troika was sure that the newbie would be difficult to work with and instruct.

But he was wrong.

In fact, Cas turned out to be a fast learner and absorbed everything around him to build up his knowledge, like a grow-in-water toy which came in capsules that would expand into the shape of a dinosaur when left in a cup of water for a few days. After half a year, Troika was confident that Cas knew enough to work on the machines by himself and gave a glowing review of the new-hire's ability in his report to the manager. Pleased with the report, the manager then gave more tasks for Cas to work on and increased his pay to match them.

Needless to say, Cas was overjoyed when he heard about his raise and invited Troika to eat dinner together at a local diner, which happened to be Lardy's. As they ate their hearty meal, the two shared more about themselves than was minimally required by the job.

The conversation taught Troika a lot about Cas. For example, he learned that they both shared a similar passion for listening to band music, although Cas's list of favorite bands surpassed Troika's list by far. They also shared a similar taste in movies, preferring thrillers and action movies over the other types. On their off days, they would arrange to meet up at either one of their homes and drive to the movie theater together, and then spend the night talking about how the movie was good or bad.

Troika enjoyed being acquainted with Cas, and he felt at ease knowing that he had someone to talk to in this sleepy town of Lagarra. His high school friends had mostly gone off to either work elsewhere like the more populated Los Angeles or San Francisco (or if they really hated this place, they went out of state), or to attend college somewhere far from the reaches of Lagarra. Some even went off to join the military. There were a few who stuck around, but they were friends in name only, and soon Troika stopped trying to make new friends and placed all his focus on getting his degree and later, learning to do his job.

All that changed, however, once the two got to know each other well enough to go to each other's apartments to have a drink in front of the TV. For the first time in years, Troika felt the warm feeling of interacting in a friend he could be honest with and confide in, and he believed Cas felt the same.

"Is there a reason you didn't go to the Fest with a friend before?" Troika asked. "Is it because your other friends don't like music festivals?"

Cas shook his head. "Actually, I didn't have anyone I could really call friends. Things were a little rough for me for a long time, and I wanted to be alone for a while."

"Oh..." Troika looked at the fox. The smile on Cas's face seemed a little sad.

The conversation then moved on to talking about which bands were the two's favorites, along with other less intrusive topics. Although Troika enjoyed talking with Cas, he couldn't help but feel that there was an invisible wall between them, however close they seemed to be with each other. There were certain topics which were seemingly off-limits for the fox, such as his family, religion, and anything during the three years he spent between his college graduation and getting hired at the factory.

Not that Troika minded. After all, he also didn't feel comfortable talking about his family and his upbringing. He knew that being a friend with someone didn't automatically mean that he had to share everything about himself with them, and maintaining a comfortable distance from each other was vital in keeping a long-term relationship of any kind.

But the topics eventually dried out, so instead of letting the awkward silence linger in the air, Troika decided to tune in on the news channel and listen to whatever was on the air at the moment. The crisp voice of a news anchor could be heard from the speaker: "--and according to the latest report, Dr. Weissler's state of health has been sharply declining during the last year, but now the renowned scientist is in a coma in the ICU after the heart attack on Friday. According to the physicians in charge, it is highly unlikely that he will regain consciousness."

"Hey, I've heard of him," Cas said. "Wasn't he featured on TV for breaking the record of having more patents under his name than anyone else in history?"

"Yup," Troika replied, "Maddox Weissler. He's a genius in every meaning of the word. I heard he did all his research inside his private lab somewhere, and all the corporations would scramble to get their paws on any discovery he made. They would pay big money for the results of his research, which they'd use as a foundation to work off of when they develop new drugs. I read about him in last week's newspaper, and apparently his net worth makes him one of the ten wealthiest individuals in the country."

"Wow, that sounds otherworldly," the fox said. "And on the other end of the spectrum, here I am living paycheck-to-paycheck with enough student loan to sink a ship. Almost makes you feel pathetic for even trying, doesn't it?"

Troika shook his head. "I prefer to be a glass-half-full kinda guy. Things can't be always bad all the time. One of the things Uncle Mack used to say is, 'Opportunity won't come knocking at your door very often, but when it does, be sure to knock it out cold so it won't run away.'" He imitated his uncle's gruff way of speaking when he recited the exact words from memory.

Cas laughed. "That's a great advice! I wanna meet your uncle someday. He sounds like such a fun dude to be with."

"He sure is! If you want to meet him, I can invite him over for dinner sometime."

Troika glanced at the rearview mirror--quick and short enough so Cas wouldn't catch him looking at it. Then, he found opportunity when he saw a sign indicating that a rest area was just a mile away. He asked Cas to make a stop there to use the restroom.

The rest area was a small one, with just a gas station and an old picnic area with benches for those who wanted to take a seat outside in the hundred-degree heat. Since the fuel tank still had plenty of gas, Cas decided to take a short nap in his seat while Troika excused himself to go use the restroom. Leaving the car, the calico cat headed to the other side of the building, where the restrooms were.

He didn't enter the restroom--as soon as he was out of his friend's sight, Troika made a quick turn and carefully peered around the corner such that no one on the other side could see him looking.

"There it is," he muttered under his breath, finding what he was looking for.

It was a nondescript gray sedan that caught his attention, one that could be seen anywhere and nobody would pay any attention to. Although the parking lot was sparsely filled even at the spaces closest to the convenience store, which was the only building at the rest stop, the sedan was parked a short distance away at one of the farthest spaces of the lot, as if wanting to remain hidden from everyone's view and memory.

Troika's suspicion was confirmed. There was no mistake that it was the same car.

He couldn't remember what the number plate indicated, since he only took quick glances at its reversed image in the rearview mirror, but he was certain that it was the right one. The front of the car was facing him, and from where he was standing, he could see that the car had the same tint of gray as the one he remembered, and the dent was at the same location on the hood. But the biggest giveaway was the windshield. It was heavily tinted and prevented anyone outside from seeing who was inside the car.

As he stood there, the calico cat thought of his next course of action. He could call Cas right now and tell him what he knew, but he didn't want to stress out Cas, let alone ask him to give the sedan a slip when they exited the rest area. No, he definitely didn't want to make Cas do that, especially when the fox was already lacking sleep. A wrong turn of the steering wheel could end up in a disaster. But he definitely didn't intend to walk away and let their stalker keep following them.

So, he took the only action he thought was appropriate: he dashed toward the sedan.

The driver undoubtedly noticed him, for the car's engine revved as its driver started the car to drive away. But Troika wasn't going to give them the chance. He shifted his weight to the right to prevent being run over if the driver decided to floor the accelerator, and in a few seconds his left paw was on the car's door handle on the driver's side. It was locked.

"Who are you?" he asked, calmly but sternly, at the driver whose face he couldn't see. "Why are you following us?"

There was silence for a few seconds. Then, slowly, the window rolled down, and Troika held his breath when he saw a razor-sharp pair of eyes piercing through him. A deep voice spoke from inside:

"You're a keener observer than I thought."

When the window rolled down completely, Troika had a clear view of the driver. He was a tall, well-built snow leopard, seemingly in his late thirties. His arctic-blue eyes were as cold as their name, staring intently at Troika.

The cat felt like a prey caught in a trap set up by the predator, waiting for the predator to make his move to end the prey's life. His mind told him to turn around and run back to the gas station, warn his friend in the car, and drive as fast as possible away from this snow leopard. But he couldn't. His entire body seemed to be frozen stiff in fear as his stalker watched his every move, as if to make sure that any wrong move made by the cat would surely be his last.

"Who... who are you?" Troika managed to say again.

"That's none of your concern," the snow leopard said stoically. "Although, I should apologize for startling you. I didn't mean to get noticed." The snow leopard sighed, apparently regretting not taking more precautions in his actions.

"And I apologize again," he continued, still staring at Troika, "I can't tell you why I was following your car. But now that you've seen me, I'll have to leave you alone. I can't have you causing accidents trying to lose a tail."

"What if I call the police now and tell them a suspicious car was following me?" Troika summed up enough courage to ask, a little annoyed by the other's attitude.

This time, instead of simply observing him, the snow leopard glared at Troika. His glare was so fierce and potent that the cat instinctively backed away. "You'll do no such thing, boy," he said quietly with a guttural growl. "If you do... You. Will. Be. Sorry." He emphasized every word of the sentence, nailing every syllable into Troika's mind.

Troika couldn't say anything out of fear; instead, he swallowed his saliva and tilted his head forward in the slightest nod to show that he heard the snow leopard's threat.

"Good," came a reply from the stalker. "I'll leave you and your friend be. I promise that I won't follow you anymore. But you won't go to the police or tell your friend or anyone else about me. Understand?" The snow leopard especially emphasized the last word, and Troika managed to move his head up and down more vigorously.

In response, the snow leopard rolled up the window. Now that he wasn't caught by the man's glare, Troika could move his body again, and he moved back a few steps to allow the sedan to drive past him. Within seconds, the car crossed the overpass and went in the opposite direction from where they came. Once the gray sedan changed lane into the highway with dozens of other cars around it, Troika could no longer distinguish it from any other car in its surrounding.

The car, as well as the snow leopard driving it, vanished from sight.