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Catch Me If You Can

by Altivo Overo (copyright 2007)

Rusty rubbed his eyes and stretched, then pushed his chair back and stood up. He groaned. Too much time bending over the tiny piece of equipment on which he'd been working was becoming a strain. He shook out his tail, absent-mindedly smoothing and fluffing it where he'd been sitting on it. He figured the little transmitter was as ready as it could be, which was a good thing since the hunt was only a couple of days away.

The fox looked at his watch and padded over to the window to peer out at the sky. Still threatening, but no rain yet, he thought to himself. Well, that should do. It was late afternoon and his stomach growled to remind him he had skipped lunch. "OK, OK," he told himself. Pulling on a green sweatshirt with the university logo, he checked to make sure his key and wallet were in his jeans pockets and stepped out of his room in the graduate center, letting the door snap shut behind him. As he turned toward the cafeteria building, his cell phone bleated softly. Unclipping it from his belt, he pressed the button to answer without looking at the display. "Fred Rust," he said into it, knowing who the caller would be.

"Chow time, Bushtail," said the expected voice of his pal, Jack. "Get your paws over here or I'll eat it all and leave you nothing."

Rusty snickered. "On my way already, Droopears," he told the hound. "Just cool your jets for half a minute." Quickening his pace, he rounded the corner of the dorm and headed up the walk to the food services building. Jack was waiting just outside the entrance, and made a show of tapping his footpaw and looking at his watch when he spotted his fox buddy. Rusty knew from the wagging of Jack's wiry tail, though, that the irritation was all an act.

The fox walked up to Jack and playpunched him on the shoulder with a closed paw. "OK," he said, "I'm here. So now what?"

"It's about time," the hound told him, with a grin that belied his exaggeratedly sad expression. "Not much longer and I'd have fainted away from hunger. C'mon, let's eat before the crowd gets here." The hound was wearing his white letter sweater, with the big green 'S' on the front. He'd earned it playing baseball, and was perhaps inordinately proud of it. Rusty had given up teasing him about being a jock, since it seemed to bounce right off his friend's hide. Jack's droopy tan ears and sad eyes made him quite popular with the girls on campus, which was a good thing. It meant he didn't have to be embarrassed about his long time friendship with a fox boy. The two had known each other since grade school, and despite occasional rough spots, their friendship was well established.

They made their way into the cafeteria, getting their tickets punched at the head of the line and moving among the steam tables and the salad bar to fill their trays. Rusty made his selections with the usual care, his preference for healthy eating always obvious. He was seated at a table by the windows with his grilled chicken, salad, and iced tea by the time Jack emerged from the line with a heavily laden tray. The fox wondered, certainly not for the first time, how his friend could put away so many calories without gaining weight.

Jack sat across from Rusty, grinning and licking his lips. "You don't eat enough," he chuckled. "No wonder you're still just a little fox toy." It was an old jibe, and Rusty was used to it. He just shrugged as the hound dug into a mountain of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and gravy. They worked on the food in silence for a few minutes, until the edge of appetite was satisfied.

Rusty pushed his tray aside first, and sat sipping tea as he watched his canine pal finish up. Finally Jack was done as well, and looked up at the fox. "So what's keeping you all locked inside on a spring day like this anyway?" the hound wanted to know. "The girls are all outside. Boys too," he added, with a sly wink. He was well aware of Rusty's predilections and liked to tease him about it.

"Radio club project," the fox answered with a smile. "We have a transmitter hunt scheduled for Saturday morning, and I'm the fox."

Jack peered at Rusty, squinting one brown eye. "Of course you're a fox. Don't be silly. Anyone with a nose can tell that." The hound wrinkled his muzzle in mock disdain. "Of course, I've gotten used to it so I usually try not to mention it," he added, snickering.

Rusty stuck his tongue out at Jack, flattening his black ears for an instant. "No, silly," he said. "It's a ham radio game. We call it a 'fox hunt' because teams work to locate someone with a small transmitter who hides or transmits on the run. It's a traditional competition, and a good challenge. We all design and build our own equipment for it. This time I'll be the moving target. Two teams will be trying to find me, one from the club here at State and another from over at Wolfson Tech."

The hound raised an eyebrow at that. "And what will they do with you when they catch you?" he asked.

The fox laughed. "Why not come and see? The weather is supposed to be good. We'll start from the front of the Engineering Building at eight o'clock Saturday morning. I get a 15 minute head start, and then the hunt teams go after me with their directional antennas."

Jack groaned. "Eight o'clock on a Saturday? You're a bunch of masochists. No decent fur wakes up before noon on weekends," he said, holding a paw up as if to shield his eyes from bright sun. "Still, it sounds sort of kinky. Maybe I'll make the sacrifice and come see it. You say they're going to whip you with antennas?" A business major, the hound liked to pretend ignorance of technical subjects, though he was actually pretty sharp with a computer himself.

"No, doofus," Rusty snorted, poking his friend with a footpaw. "Not whip antennas. They'll be using directional beams of various sorts. I'll be the one with the whip." He showed his teeth in what he hoped was a suitably sinister grin. "They get 90 minutes to locate me, using only radio equipment and sight, no scenting allowed. The winning team will get to host the next hunt in the fall, and the losers buy the beer when we go for lunch afterwards."

"How far can you go to hide?" Jack asked, interested in spite of himself.

"I have to stay on campus and outdoors. That was the agreement this time," the fox answered. "But I'm not making it easy. I have to transmit for at least ten seconds out of every minute. Usually the fox just uses a handheld and rattles off bad jokes or something like that into the microphone, but I've built a special rig. It will send a morse code identification string automatically for ten seconds, then wait twenty seconds before repeating it. That way I can focus on making the hunt a challenge. I'll be on the move constantly, no hanging out in a tree and waiting to be found or anything like that."

Shaking his head mournfully, Jack only said "You engineering geeks. I can't believe you have no better ideas for what to do with your time. It's spring out, Bushtail. Girls are cruising the garden walks in their sundresses. Cute guys, or at least I'm told they're cute, are playing frisbee and sunbathing out on the lawns." He gave the fox a pointed look with this last. "And you're huddled inside with a soldering iron? I don't get it."

"It's fun. It's a challenge." Rusty grinned and shook his head. "I don't suppose a mere business guy would get it. Still, come see on Saturday. There'll be girls around. In fact, I hear there are a couple of them on Wolfson's team." Jack laughed. "Girl geeks? I can just imagine." He blinked and looked at his watch. "Whoops! I've got a macroeconomics seminar in ten minutes. Later, fox," he added, leaving his tray and heading for the door.

Chuckling to himself, Rusty stacked the dishes back onto the trays to make it easier for the bus staff. He decided to take a walk through the campus botanical garden, both to make up for the amount of time he'd been spending indoors and to check out possible hiding places or hidden paths he might take on Saturday. Maybe Jack was right, he thought. He'd been hiding away in his room too much lately.

The sun was slipping down the sky, but still bright. He generally thought daylight saving time was a nuisance, but it seemed nice at the moment to have a couple of hours of sunlight left after dinner. The paths among the carefully labeled trees and shrubs were dry, since it hadn't rained at all in the last week, and the dusty wood chips felt pleasant under his bare footpaws. He could hear laughter and shouts from the lawns outside the garden, but there seemed to be no one strolling through the shady paths at the moment.

At the west end of the acre or so of carefully tended greenery, he found a large bed filled with spring bulbs. A sign said it was tended by the horticulture club and indeed, it had the air (and scent) of a florist's shop. A riot of daffodils, hyacinths, and anemones met the senses, offering a painting in pinks, yellows, and delicate lavender tints. Rusty smiled, thinking of a couple of his gay friends who probably had a hand in setting it up. Then he turned his thoughts back to the radio foxhunt.

He could wear his camouflage pants and that faded green sweatshirt, he thought. The transmitter was small enough to fit into a pocket, but he should put an antenna on his hat or something. The agreed upon frequency was high enough that a tiny antenna would do the trick. He had an old mobile cell phone "pigtail" that should work, with a little effort at matching.

Just outside the gardens he came up against a hastily erected barricade of sawhorses and battery-powered flashers. It looked as if some digging had been necessary in order to link up drains or water lines for the addition to the athletic building that was in progress nearby. A couple of pieces of heavy equipment were parked there, and if they were still around on Saturday he might be able to dodge among them to keep out of sight. Rusty made a mental note of the possibility as he detoured around the disturbed area and headed back to his room to study. Two final exams next week were enough to make him keep his sharp nose in the books for a while. He preferred to prepare early rather than cram at the last minute.

Returning to the dorm, Rusty let himself back into his room. Before cracking the books, he checked his laptop computer for any e-mail and found a message from Gloria. At times he found it embarrassing that Gloria seemed to be even more on top of electronics technology than he was. The vixen was cute, too. Even he had to admit that, and she had a pleasant, friendly personality as well. He'd asked her for some advice about his foxhunt transmitter the week before, and she offered several suggestions. One of them had been perfect for what he needed in the automatic control design, and he had gone with it. Now she wanted to know whether it worked out for him, and also urged him to check out the latest weather forecast for the weekend. Putting his notes and textbooks aside for a moment, Rusty composed a quick answer, thanking Gloria for her suggestions and letting her know that one of them had been just right. He promised to check the weather, too.

Turning to the weather service web site, he noticed there were thunderstorms predicted for Friday night, with possible heavy rainfall, but it was expected to clear up by morning. He made a note to dig out his rubber boots for the hunt, because he hated muddy paws even though he didn't mind getting wet otherwise. Then the fox put Saturday out of his mind for a while and turned to his studies. He still had two days to wait for the hunt, and he was ready for it.

When Friday afternoon arrived, the skies were certainly threatening. Rusty winced at a distant thunder rumble as he walked up to join Jack for dinner at the cafeteria. Jack gave him a toothy grin. "Looks like the fox is going to get a bath tomorrow morning," Jack chuckled. "I hope your radio equipment is waterproof."

Holding the door open for his friend, the fox nodded. "It is, actually. Or at least, water resistant. I allowed for a good rain, but didn't anticipate having to operate it under water," he said.

"That's good," agreed Jack, as he handed a cafeteria tray to Rusty. "But I should have known you'd think of that. Eight o'clock you said?"

Rusty blinked. "You actually plan to be there?" he asked, his ears perked quizically.

Nodding, the hound said "Yes, I do. Mind, I wouldn't get up just for some geeky thing like that, but I mentioned it to Lisa and she wants to see it. Me and my big mouth.

" Jack was stacking dishes onto his tray, accumulating what looked like enough food for two, but that was so ordinary that Rusty hardly took notice. "I see," he said. "So Lisa is interested in technical stuff?" Lisa was a rather elegant looking greyhound whom Jack had been seeing lately. Rusty had met her briefly just once, and remembered only with some irritation that she had called him "A cute little guy."

"Well, she's interested in outdoor activities and tracking," Jack admitted. "And I'm willing to go along with it if it keeps her interested in me."

"OK. Well, we meet at eight in front of Engineering. There'll be a brief explanation of the rules, then I take off for my head start. Professor Logan is the referee and organizer, so he'll tell the two teams when they can start after me."

The hound winked, a rather incongruous gesture when performed by his perpetually sad looking face. "We'll be there to cheer you on, then," he declared.

Rusty had to laugh. "Hold your applause until it's over," he said, selecting a salad with sliced chicken pieces in it. His tray looked empty next to Jack's.

"You told me that the winning team hosts the next event, and the losers buy the beer," Jack said thoughtfully, "But what if neither team finds you? There's a time limit, right?" He led the way to an unoccupied table, tucking into the food without hesitation as soon as they sat down.

"Yes. If the time runs out and no one has found me, then those obligations will be settled by a coin toss. And if the judges decide I played by the rules, I'm declared the official winner. That almost never happens though," Rusty added. "I've only seen it once. That time the fox was hidden in almost plain sight, inside a plastic tunnel on a children's playground. The hunters kept walking right past him because they assumed he couldn't fit into the thing. As it turned out in fact, he needed help getting out."

"Will we be able to follow the action?" the hound wanted to know.

"Sure," Rusty grinned. "Just keep quiet and no hints. If you spot me, don't tell anyone, OK?"

Jack nodded. "We won't say a word," he promised. Several minutes passed then punctuated only by sounds of appreciation. Both friends were hungry, though the hound was far more expressive of his enjoyment.

Eventually, Rusty sat back with his mug of tea, watching Jack down a slice of layer cake. "So," he asked, "how are you getting on with Lisa?" Jack licked his own nose and smiled. "Pretty well, actually. Not only is she a fox, if you'll pardon the expression, but she appreciates athletics. A girl after my own heart."

Rusty laughed. He knew that Jack meant Lisa wouldn't ask him about the last book he read or what he thought of some political situation or other. The hound had no interest in such things, but could discuss sports scores endlessly, even including the women's teams. Nodding, he glanced out the window. Not raining yet. "Sounds great," he agreed, pushing back his chair. "Well, back to the books for me. I'll see you both tomorrow morning."

"Sure thing," Jack said. He was now working on his after dinner coffee, double cream and sugar. "We'll be there."

As it turned out, Rusty didn't get much studying done. He was anticipating the next day's event too much, and kept checking the weather radars again and again, even after heavy raindrops began to splatter his window. He decided to put the little transmitter in a plastic zip bag just in case. The antenna wire would come out one corner and the bag would give some extra protection from the rain. His cell phone and dual band handheld radio were designed to tolerate a reasonable amount of rain, so they'd probably be fine on his belt, he figured. Laying his clothes out for the morning, he curled up in his bed and listened to the rain. Surely it would end by morning, he hoped.

Somehow he drifted off into dreams of wading through mud up to his knees while trying to send messages in morse code by hand. When the alarm went off at seven, Rusty felt groggy but at least the rain had stopped. He could see a few puddles from his window, but there were patches of blue sky between the clouds. He dressed quickly in his camouflage outfit, pocketing the foxhunt transmitter after a quick check to make sure it was working, and hurried off to breakfast.

Jack and Lisa were in the cafeteria and waved him to their table once he had his eggs and toast. Lisa gave him a perky smile as he sat down. "There you are," she said. "All set for the chase?"

Rusty nodded, reaching into his pocket to pull out the tiny transmitter and hold it up. "There it is," he answered, "all set to run." He ate hurriedly, unusual for him, but he didn't want to be late.

The two canines watched him, and in spite of his rush, he was almost certain they were holding paws under the table. Well, good for them. He thought a little stability might be something Jack could use in his life. The fox finished his tea at ten minutes to the hour. "Ready to stroll over to Engineering?" he asked.

"Sure, let's go," Jack responded, sliding his chair from the table. It was only a five minute walk, but they had to detour around several puddles on the way.

"I see you remembered to wear your galoshes," remarked Lisa. "Your mother brought you up properly." She giggled, which Rusty found rather irritating, but he nodded to her. "I hate having muddy paws," he said, as they arrived at the front of the designated building. His tail picked up with nervous excitement when he saw that both teams were waiting and old Professor Logan was there with a clipboard.

The team from State were all known to Rusty, of course. Gloria was there, wearing green sweats and carrying a hand-held beam antenna. The other three team members were John and Andy, the beagle twins, and Joe, a lynx from Canada who was good at direction finding just by using his own body to shield the receiver and then turning slowly around. Gloria waved and winked at him. "All set to give us a good challenge, Rusty?" she asked.

"I intend to try," he answered as the others yipped greetings. Then he turned to examine the team from Wolfson. There were apparently only three of them, two tall timber wolves and a smaller, almost dainty, coyote girl in a pink jacket. All three held directional antenna arrays and nodded to him when they noticed his gaze. One of the wolves seemed to be attached to the girl, so perhaps they were a couple or at least close friends. The two of them talked in lowered voices that he couldn't quite make out while the remaining wolf, who was the tallest of the three, walked toward Rusty and wagged his tail slowly.

"Hi," he said, holding out a paw. "I'm Jeff Grayhouse, team captain for Wolfson. I take it you're our quarry?" He was wearing a denim jacket with a radio league patch sewn onto the shoulder, and his first name embroidered over the pocket.

Rusty took Jeff's paw and received the warm handclasp, feeling unexpectedly distracted. He looked into the wolf's smiling eyes and nodded. "Yeah," he mumbled, "I'm Fred, but everyone calls me Rusty. I'll try to give you a good run."

The tall wolf continued to wag slowly, then winked at him, waving a paw at the nearest puddle. "Just so you know," he grinned, "all three members of our team have life saving certificates. So if you fall into one of these lakes and need rescuing, just sing out."

Rusty felt a little embarrassed as he realized that his eyes were still locked on Jeff's own amber ones, and he looked aside. Still, he couldn't quite keep his own tail from wagging in response. "I'll keep that in mind," he mumbled, risking a little smile before turning back to his own club members.

Professor Logan, a grizzled cougar who taught electronic engineering and design and sponsored the ham radio club on campus sprang up onto the steps of the building then and held up a paw. "If I could have everyone's attention, we can begin," he announced, bringing his paw down to indicate Rusty. "Fred here is our target for this morning, and I'll let him describe what you're looking for since he built the transmitter himself. Fred?"

"Thank you, sir," Rusty responded formally, though the cougar was his graduate advisor and they were actually on a first name basis. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the tiny transmitter, tethered by a thin cable to the antenna on his baseball cap. "The transmitter has a power of about a hundred milliwatts, and sends audio tone modulated morse signals under automatic control. It transmits for ten seconds, then rests for twenty seconds before transmitting again." He unclipped his own 70 centimeter handheld from his belt and held it in his other paw. "Team captains will receive an envelope with the frequency inside once I've taken my lead. Here's a sample of what the signal sounds like..."

Rusty clicked his handheld on, holding it at arm's length to one side, and then pressed a button on the transmitter. A red LED began blinking, and the thin sound of morse signals came from the handheld transceiver. "Any non-code hams in the group?" he asked. All the team members on both sides shook their heads.

Then Jack sang out from the fistful of observers standing to one side. "How about telling us unwashed masses what it says?" he wanted to know.

Jeff Grayhouse had his ears perked to the signals, and the ten second message ended just then. He chuckled. "Clever," he said to Rusty, then turned to the small audience. "It says 'CATCH ME IF YOU CAN DE W9KSU AR'" he announced, grinning widely. "W9KSU is the club call sign here at State," Professor Logan added. "The 'DE' is a morse abbreviation for 'from' and the 'AR' means 'end of transmission.' By the way, the radio club meets here in this building on the second and fourth Tuesdays of each month at seven in the evening. Any of you are welcome to come around if you're interested. We're happy to help you get licensed and started out in amateur radio."

Gloria gave a high pitched yip at that. "You don't have to be an engineer or a computer geek, either," she called.

"That's right," Rusty agreed. "Gloria here is a sociology major." Some of the onlookers murmured among themselves briefly, looking at Gloria with more interest.

"OK then," Professor Logan said, looking at his watch. "Here's how it works, for the benefit of our visitors. When I start timing, Fred gets a fifteen minute start. He has to stay outdoors and on campus, but can take any evasive route he chooses. Once the fifteen minutes have elapsed, I'll give the team captains sealed envelopes with the transmitter frequency inside. They can work as teams or as individuals, and have ninety minutes to catch up with the transmitter, wherever Fred may have taken it. Teams can communicate by radio, of course, and are allowed to use only sight and the radio signal to locate Fred. No scenting or other tracking means are permitted. The winner will be the first team to find Fred and the transmitter. If the time runs out and Fred is still not located, he becomes the winner, though that would be a very unusual development."

The cougar turned to Rusty and smiled. "Are you ready, fox?" he asked.

Rusty re-pocketed the transmitter and turned off his handheld, clipping it again to his belt. He nodded, jokingly taking the pose of a runner preparing to start a sprint.

"All right," the professor declared, looking at his watch. "On the count of three... One... Two... Three!"

Rusty glanced at his own watch, and took off at a brisk trot, rounding the corner of the building to get out of sight of the pursuers immediately. He followed the brick wall to the back side of the building, then cut through a muddy flower bed to get into the botanical gardens. Knowing he would have no pursuit for a few minutes, he slowed his pace and crossed the garden into the shrubbery at the other side.

Forsythia were dropping their golden blossoms and starting to leaf out. The pussy willows were shedding pollen and looked rather bedraggled after the heavy rain. The fox counted on his camouflage outfit and the newly sprouting leaves to make him harder to spot. He strolled down an aisle between the specimen shrubs, most of which were dense and taller than he was.

Debating whether to duck under the bleachers beside the intramural athletic field, he decided that there was too much trash to wade through under there. Instead he turned and went behind the athletic building, where he paused to turn his handheld on and set it to scan the 70 centimeter simplex frequencies where he expected to hear the pursuing team members talking to each other. His fifteen minutes were nearly up, and he checked to make sure the LED was still lit on the transmitter. It was.

The fox walked nonchalantly down the pavement outside the athletic building, until he reached the jumble of equipment and barricades where the addition was being built. He looked around, but no one seemed to be watching this early in the morning as he slipped between the heavy machinery and hopped over a sawhorse barricade. He hoped the pursuers wouldn't expect to find him in that mess.

Just then his transceiver crackled softly and he heard Gloria's voice. "This is KW9JT," she announced. "I've got a clear indication that Rusty's gone off toward the athletic building."

"Roger that," he heard Joe answering. "We'll meet you there, Gloria. W9NZI out."

Crouching behind a backhoe, Rusty wondered where the Wolfson team were and his radio immediately obliged with the answer as he heard Jeff Grayhouse calling to his team members. "K8HFM here. Head for the athletic field. You can see the bleachers if you look to the west." They were on his trail already, so he worked his way back among the equipment, keeping an eye open in the direction from which they would approach. Rusty checked his watch. The teams had already been on his trail for about fifteen minutes, so he had to evade them for more than an hour yet.

Continuing to pick his way through the mud and piles of construction debris, the fox arrived at the wall of the new addition. He could go no farther in that direction, so he followed the wall, moving farther west, away from the pursuing hunt teams. When he got to a corner, he slipped around it and headed south, emerging from the construction zone opposite the entrance to the football stadium. Rusty looked around and decided it was too open here. They'd spot him easily, so he slipped back into the construction area. He wished he had explored his intended route farther back on Wednesday.

Gloria's voice came from his handheld again. "KW9JT here. I think he went across the construction zone toward the stadium," she announced.

"W9NZI," Joe answered immediately. "Wait there, we're right behind you. That's too messy to cross alone. I'll bet he went around it and is on the other side." "I can see footprints in the mud, Joe," was Gloria's response. "KW9JT standing by for you."

Rusty wanted to pawsmack himself. He hadn't counted on mud, of course. Dry spring weather would have been so much better. He retreated among the heavy equipment again, considering his options, and not a moment too soon. He heard a shrill yip of excitement and peeked out cautiously around the hood of a heavy tractor, only to see the Wolfson team running toward his location from the other direction. They had apparently come around the athletic building from the other side. There would be no escape to the football field now.

The fox took a step backward, hiding behind the tractor, and then another, and another. His footpaw slipped unexpectedly on the mud and he sprawled on his belly but to his surprise didn't stop moving. He was sliding downhill in slippery mud with nothing to halt his progress. He felt one boot and then the other fill with cold water, and scrabbled frantically for a pawhold but to no avail. With a muddy splash, he found himself in water up to his waist as darkness closed around him.

Rusty tried not to panic. He was lying on his belly, half in and half out of the water. Feeling with his paws, he determined that the surface under him was curved concrete, smooth and mud slicked. When he looked up, he could see a circle of sky with clouds, but his paws could find nothing to grip to let him climb out. It must be a storm drain or something, left uncovered during the construction, he thought. Then he realized that he was still slipping down into the muddy water. The surface was tilted at about a 45 degree angle.

"I'm in trouble now," he told himself. "Stupid fox." He felt for any kind of toehold and found none. His knees failed to get any grip on the slippery concrete, and the water was creeping in around his neck when his paws found a seam of some sort that gave him a tenuous hold that stopped his slide. He was in cold water up to his chin, with only his ears, eyes, and nose clear of it. He had to keep his arms bent, muscles tensed, in order to keep from sliding under the water completely. Cautiously, he felt with one footpaw and then the other, looking for anything that could help him at least keep his position. One toe caught on something, giving him a little more security but only at full extension so it wouldn't help him to get up and out.

Rusty didn't dare let go of the seam in the wall with either paw to try to reach his cell phone or handheld radio. In any case, he thought, they're probably already full of water and useless. The foxhunt transmitter was sealed inside two plastic bags and probably still transmitting. He hoped it was, anyway. They might still find him. He opened his mouth to call out, and muddy water rushed in. He choked and coughed it out. Whatever his footpaw was resting on, either it must be slipping or the water was rising from below. Closing his eyes, he tensed and held on as well as he could. He wasn't sure how long the ordeal continued, but Rusty was starting to think about just giving up and sinking into the water. He was shivering badly from the cold, and his paws were cramping when he heard an echoing bark from above.

"Oh, Canis," a voice called. "I think he's down this pipe." There were answering voices but Rusty couldn't make them out. He held on, a spark of hope reawakening, as a shadow moved across the light above him.

A pocket flashlight beam flared in his eyes, and a newly familiar voice growled from above. "He's in here all right, and he's in trouble. A couple of you hold my belt so I don't slip down after him, while I try to reach and help him out." The light went away completely, then he heard wet scraping sounds. A paw closed firmly around his wrist.

"It's Jeff," the voice told him in the darkness. "I've got you, Rusty. Hold on, and we'll get you out as fast as we can." The paw was warm, and strong. Rusty wrapped his own around it, and then slowly moved his other paw to join it. His grip felt weak, numb with the cold, but the big wolf had him firmly anchored. Jeff called back over his shoulder. "OK, pull me up very slowly. Now!" With little muddy slurping sounds, they began to move upward, sliding over the wet concrete.

The light reappeared, and Rusty could see Jeff's eyes. They seemed to glow with amber light. He thought he must be hallucinating. Then other paws grabbed his wet sweatshirt and helped to drag him out onto the surface. He lay there panting, a shivering, muddy heap.

"Is he hurt?" Gloria's voice drifted in and out of Rusty's consciousness. "I've already called emergency services, they're on their way," she said.

The sound of a siren pierced the fox's chilled ears, and he opened his eyes to find that he was looking right into Jeff Grayhouse's worried face. The wolf was holding his paw still, and smiled down at him, ears and face spattered with mud. "You're all right, fox," Jeff told him quietly. "I've got you. I'll make sure they take care of you."

When Rusty woke up he was in a bed in the campus infirmary. He recognized the smell and the green color of the walls from the time he'd been really sick with flu a couple of years earlier. Jack and Lisa were standing by the bed, and so was Gloria. There was a bear in a campus security uniform, too. Then he realized that someone was still holding his paw. He turned his head, and there was Jeff, watching with a concerned expression. "Welcome back," the wolf said softly.

"Oh, Rusty," Gloria told him, "you really gave us a fright. You went into shock after we pulled you out of there I think. Thank Canis that little transmitter of yours just kept right on sending. I might not have found you without it." Jack nodded, grinning down at him. "They say you have to stay overnight," he said, "but you'll be all right. I figured you would, though. You're made of tough material for sure."

Lisa winked. "And you're even cute when you're covered with mud," she added. Rusty made a face, and realized that he did feel all right in spite of the IV hooked to his free paw and the horrid institutional setting.

The bear looked at him and said gruffly, "Officer Ted Johnson. I have to fill out a report on what happened. I already know about the game you were participating in. Just tell me how you ended up down that storm sewer. It was supposed to be covered, and we'll be trying to find out why it was open."

Rusty sighed. "It was just a stupid accident, Officer," he said. "I was caught up in the hunt and stepped into it backward. Not paying attention to what I was doing. My fault, I'm afraid."

The bear nodded. "That's what we figured probably happened. You should be released from here tomorrow unless they find something unexpected going on. You had quite a chill. I'll just ask you to come by the security office on Monday to give us a formal statement, if you would."

"I'll do that," Rusty promised. "And I'm really sorry for the trouble. Thanks." Officer Johnson cracked a smile at last. "It's all right, son," he said. "But next time, watch where you're going, OK? And stay out of those work zones. They put up the barricades for a good reason."

Rusty nodded. "I promise," he said. "I don't want to repeat that experience." Everyone laughed then.

A skunk in a white cap poked her head in the door. The cap looked like an extension of the white stripe on her face, actually. "All right," she told them. "Too noisy, and too many of you at once. Two visitors at a time, please, and visiting hours end in fifteen minutes."

"It's all right, nurse," the bear said. "We were just leaving anyway." He gestured Gloria toward the door. "I need a statement from you, miss."

"We'll catch you later, Rusty," Jack told him, and Lisa wiggled her pawfingers at him as Jack dragged her out of the room by the other paw.

The tall wolf stayed in the chair by the bed and squeezed Rusty's paw. "It's about time," he declared. "Let me fill you in on what you missed."

Jeff leaned back in the chair, without letting go of the fox's paw. His index claw toyed with the fur on Rusty's wrist as he continued. "Both teams arrived in that muddy construction area at the same time. Your friend Gloria is good. She went right to the hole you'd slipped into, but she insisted that Wolfson won because I was the first to actually spot you visually. We decided to declare the whole thing a draw. Everyone was more concerned about you, and they're all much relieved to know that you'll be OK. They drank a toast to you at lunch, by the way, for giving them an exciting hunt. I wasn't there, but Gloria told me about it."

Rusty blinked. "Why weren't you there?" he had to ask.

The wolf tilted his head and grinned. "Because I've been here with you. I haven't left you except when they took you to the MRI to check for injuries. I promised to make sure you were taken care of, remember."

He squeezed Rusty's paw again, and continued, "Besides, I'm staking a claim. I saw the way you looked at me when we met. I assure you, the interest was mutual. I'll be here tomorrow to pick you up as soon as they release you, OK? We're going to have lunch to make up for the one you missed today. My treat, because I want to get to know you better."

Rusty nodded at Jeff. "I'd like that, I think."

Grinning, Jeff stood up, releasing the fox's paw at last. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear," he said, tail wagging. Then he bent and nuzzled Rusty on the ear, passing his tongue lightly over the fur. "You know," he chuckled, "for a radio geek you're darned cute."

Somehow, Rusty didn't have the same reaction to being called cute that he had felt when Lisa did it. He just smiled back and said "And for a big, bad wolf you have the most reassuring touch I've ever felt." He laid back on the pillow but didn't close his eyes as Jeff padded softly out the door, tail still wagging.

The wolf poked his muzzle back around the door frame at the last second and whispered loudly, "I'll see you tomorrow, fox."