FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

By Ralley Foxtrot

All rights reserved

© 2012 Ralley Foxtrot

Beer, Wine, and Spirits

Chapter 2: Coping

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James was panting as sweat dripped through his fur. His fists pounded away at the heavy hanging punching bag while his mind focused all of his anger, rage, and fears into it. To him, this was a form of therapy for his addled mind and, even though it wasn't professionally prescribed, it calmed him. When he was unfocused, his mind wandered into the territory of his worries and troubles which mentally blinded and overwhelmed him. However, when he focused on hitting everything bad in the bag, he was finally able to calm himself and get some peace. Everything negative in his life had less of an effect on him as it faded away with bruises and black eyes. It was like a strong drink of alcohol that took the pain away and made him forget about it all. It also didn't have the side effect of a hangover the next morning.

The bottled water was siren calling him from the stool he had placed it on. Condensation was dripping down its sides and seemed to sparkle as if it was rare treasure for his parched throat. He steadied the swinging bag while he caught his breath. As he drank from the bottle his mind started to reflect. Most of his worries weren't bothering him but they were still unresolved issues in his life.

The companies he had tried to gain employment from weren't returning his calls. His most recent employer had a ruthless HR department with a dirty habit of blackballing former employees that were let go or left for stress reasons. James was told to see a psychiatrist by the company because he was hearing voices, specifically the voice of the former owner of the business. The shrinks he saw found nothing wrong him, other than that he was hearing voices at work and only at work. After a while, the management decided that James was either crazy or playing games with them and they decided to let him go.

After months of searching, he finally found a job that would take him. He was now a proud Delivery Professional for the PadEx® shipping company. It wasn't a glorious, glamorous, or even high paying but, it was a job and it paid the bills. It was humiliating for him to have to start from the bottom of a company and work his way up again but, he looked at it as his own personal mountain to climb. He would do it for himself and to spite of those bastards in management at his old company.

The job wasn't too bad. Each day, a delivery truck driver would take him to offices and residences where he would drop off and pick up packages. He was getting exercise and meeting new people--although only briefly since he had to move onto the next delivery quickly. He was losing some inches on his gut; the spare tire of a belly had grown around his waist from all the stressful 50 hour work weeks and constant sitting behind a desk day in and out. His old twice a week habit of binge drinking and bar hopping probably didn't help him keep his weight down at the time either.

James hadn't returned to the bar, or let a drop of alcohol touch his lips, since that night he met Mark at the bar. He hoped that, while he stayed sober, the things he was seeing, that other people could not, wouldn't bother him again. He hadn't seen Mark since the day of Mark's own wake but he was starting to see strange things out of the corners of his eyes. If he turned to look further, whatever it was vanished like it wasn't even there in the first place. He chalked it up to his imagination playing tricks on him but, it seemed to be happening more often than not.

The gym was his safe haven; he hadn't seen anything strange there. While he exercised his mind focused and didn't drift off. Well, his eyes would drift to catch a glimpse of a few lovely females toning up on their stair masters or treadmills. The view was nice and James was cautious enough to not get caught gawking. In the midst of everything that had happened to him in the past year, he didn't feel like he was ready to start dating again.

"C'mon man!" cried out a voice from behind his punching bag, "Don't give up now! Kick its ass!" The voice belonged to a young male tabby cat who clutched the side of the bag on the opposing side of James. The tabby waved James over to the bag in a taunting fashion.

James chuckled for a moment and pulled at his tank top a few times to force a cool breeze of fresh air over his torso and chest. He set the bottle down back on the stool and took up his boxing stance, his fists made contact with the bag as the tabby held it in place.

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The exit to this gym was placed right by the main doors. Often, passers-by would spot you by holding the bag steady and would offer a few words of motivation and encouragement. Whoever designed this placed knew how to motivate boxers. James found himself liking this place.

He made a hard right punch at the bag and the Tabby mock-stumbled backward and hit the exit door hard enough that it echoed throughout the gym. The tabby smiled to James and gave him a thumb up before heading out the door.

James smiled and waved but kept himself focused on his punches. He hadn't boxed at all since secondary school but the lessons he learned from his coaches still stuck with him. The coaches were the kind of people who watched over you from afar and drilled you on your weakness. Sure, they gave compliments and encouragement but only when they felt you needed it. He could hear their voices echoing in his head, Damnit Ellington! You're dropping your shoulders and elbows. Keep your guard up!

"Yes sir!" James said to himself as he pounded at the bag. The metal chain holding it creaked from above in complaint.

James had felt like the man of the hour at Mark's wake but, the feeling didn't last long. He had to hide the truth that he had only met the ghost of Mark Reynor. Secrets and lies made him uncomfortable but, it was preferable to Mark's family and friends thinking that he was crazy. Mark had, enigmatically, reached out to James to help him show his wife and son that Mark did truly did love him. James felt that he was now a part of their lives.

He had left the wake after playing a few rounds of catch with Mark's son. After a few days, Jennifer Zanabu--esquire, hot headed fennec babe, and friend to the Reynors--started to take interest in him. She lured him out to lunch or for walks in the park with the pretense of wanting to know this wolf who suddenly appeared in Mark's life. The talks were casual but eventually got impersonal. James knew that Jennifer could never understand why, this man that Mark met in a bar only once, was entrusted with a secret that would've saved Marks marriage if he were alive today.

The half-truth story that James shielded himself with was wearing thin. Jennifer, like the hellion lawyer she was, poked holes in it and pointed out contradictions. After a while she demanded dates, times, places, and names of people that might've seen he and Mark talking. It made James feel like he was applying for a high-security job.

James confronted Jennifer about the line of questioning and asked if she was suspicious of him. She just brushed the question off, smiling, and changed the subject. He could tell that she was growing as frustrated with him as he was with her and decided to stop returning her calls.

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"Yeah! That's it!" Yelled a voice from behind the punching bag. "Let the bitch have it."

James cooled his rage for a moment to peer around the bag. There was a badger in his middle-ages holding the bag steady. It came as a surprise to James because he hadn't seen anyone walk towards the exit in some time, it was late now and the gym was practically empty. There was something familiar about the stranger but James couldn't place it. The stranger was dressed like one of the coaches you'd see in an old boxing movie: plaid ascot hat, a tan sweater with a white long sleeved turtle neck beneath it, and khaki pants. The smell of old leather wafted across James nose.

He shrugged off his surprise and kept beating down the bag. His focus came back and it felt like there was only himself, the beat up issues in the punching bag, and the stranger who was holding the bag steady. The sound of his gloves impacting the bag echoed loudly off the walls. Once he was satisfied he paused for a moment before putting everything he had left into an uppercut that lifted the bag a few inches up. The stranger was pushed back but kept his ground as the chains rattled in mild protest.

"Good job!" said the stranger, "Show that fennec bitch who's boss! Who does she think she is anyway? Asking all those prying questions."

"Heh, yeah..." said James. He took a few light jabs at the punching bag before the cogs in his brain came to a complete stop and all screamed at once. He felt the fur on the back of his neck stand to attention in a split second.

"Wait! What?!" James shouted, "Who the hell are you?!"

The stranger just grinned and motioned for James to hit the bag more "That's not important right now. Just keep murdering this thing! Bitch has gotta be put in her place!"

James adrenaline was surging but he kept himself from going ballistic or running away screaming. He reached out and took a cautious jab at the strangers shoulder. The glove sank into the stranger. James felt no impact as it just went right through the stranger. Shock rang through James and he quickly pulled his paw back. The stranger started to fade and dissipate; a mist started to rise from that him matched the color of the badger's fur. After a moment, the stranger was gone and only the mist remained, it rose up and started to move towards James. He leapt backward but his heel caught the leg of the stool behind him and he hit the floor.

Everything went dark.

***

Something was a poking at his side.

"Hey! Are you okay?" A voice called out to him.

James opened his eyes and felt a dull but growing throb of pain in his head. His paws clutched at his skull and his eyes focused on the form leaning over him--a snow leopard wearing the embroidered pale blue sports uniform jacket of the gym.

"Welcome back to the land of the living." Said the snow leopard.

James groaned and rubbed at his own head as he sat up slowly.

"How long was I out?" Asked James.

"A minute, maybe." The snow leopard's eyes scanned over James to check him for injuries. "I heard you shouting at something and then a crash and thud. What happened?"

James groaned and sat up further. The snow leopard placed a paw on his back and offered a water bottle. James sipped from it graciously.

"I don't know, "said James, "there was some old fart spotting me and... and everything just went dark."

"Can you stand?" Asked the snow leopard. "I'd like to check you over and make sure you're okay."

James nodded and got to his feet. The snow leopard led him by his arm into one of the back rooms that the employees used as offices. He sat James down into a chair by a desk and helped him get his gloves off.

"I'm Ted, by the way," said the snow leopard as he shined a pen light into James eyes, "I've seen you here a few times before. You really wail on those punching bags."

James chuckled and relaxed, "Thanks for this Ted, I'm James. I was pretty good at boxing in secondary school but stopped for a while after graduation. I just took it up again."

"Is that right?" Ted smiled and patted James on the shoulder. "Well, you don't seem to have a concussion and nothing looks broken. Does anything hurt?"

"Just my pride," James replied before gripping his head and groaning as it throbbed, "and my head. Do you have any pain-killers?"

"Let me grab some from the cabinet in the other room." Ted smiled at him before walking into the other room.

There was a framed picture that came into James view just as Ted moved away. He squinted and looked closer. It was an old black and white photo of the same badger who was taunting James just a few minutes ago.

Oh no, thought James as he felt the fur on the back of his neck standing again.

"Ted, who's that guy on the picture frame on the wall?" James asked.

The snow leopard came back in with a bottle of pills and looked at the photo. "Him? That's mister Burgess. I doubt he's your old fart. He used to work at this gym until about 10 years ago when he passed away. He and the owner go way go back. I guess he coached a few boxing champs in the day but the owner said he was a bit of a bigot and didn't know when to keep his mouth shut."

James covered his face with his paws and bit at his lip to stop himself from screaming in frustration. He was shaking in fear and livid anger as he opened his eyes and stared back at the picture.

The visions really are back.