Author Topic: Border Crossing  (Read 1197 times)

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Offline Jackalman

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Border Crossing
« on: May 01, 2004, 01:17:46 am »
He had given up on finding Redge. The border patrol’s sirens were less than half a mile away. It was time to straighten out his cat ears, put the hammer down and bail.  Before he made it to second gear there Redge was, in a giant furry bunny outfit popping up out of the grass in a roadside ditch and waving like mad. Doug didn’t even come to a full stop, the passenger side window was open and he slowed down enough to let Redge dive through it, then he got busy accelerating again.

“What the hell are you doing here?” asked Doug as he violently worked the steering wheel, “You were supposed to be at the schoolbus.”

While struggling to right himself up in the seat with his rabbit ears askew Redge said, “I had to hide, there’s military police around here,”

“Oh great,” said Doug, “Nice to see you dress so inconspicuously.”

Redge had really bleep up. He hopped the fence of the cultural rehabilitation camp just outside Tacoma and made his way for the border without even changing into civilian garb. Worst of all, he made his way into Doug’s car, and that really fouled things up. Doug wasn’t the smuggler. Doug was the bait car. It was his intention to get arrested. The plan was he led the cops on a merry chase while a busload of persecuted furries quietly saunter their way to Maple Ridge, an insignificant dirt road on 3000 miles of unguarded border.

If Doug got arrested, being Canadian all he could be charged with was speeding and reckless driving. The cat ears would only get him deported from the country.  As long as the bus made it across it would be impossible to tie him with smuggling “cultural deviants”. With Redge in the car, he was looking at a long stay in Guantanamo Bay.  Now he had to make it. Canada or bust.

This was the way it had been ever since Donald Rumsfeld led the conservative crusade and successfully lobbied to pass what was known as the Rumsfeld Law.  It was passed to eradicate all forms of “cultural deviancy” that were seen as both deviant and unnatural.  This was born after the successful amendment to the constitution to ban gay marriages.  The conservatives were on a roll to eradicate all forms of culture that did not perfectly match their own image of what was American.  It allowed them to deport immigrants in enormous masses, ban all forms of homosexual interaction, greatly curb the practice of non-Christian religions, and had a strangle hold on all kinds of print and video media banning everything seen as slightly deviant.  

Aside the great gay reforming camps made to rehabilitate homosexuals, furries were only considered a small nuisance to the great conservative crusade.  They were tossed into camps made to reform sexual deviancy, as it was assumed all furries were solely motivated by sexual fantasies of having sex with animals.  Sexual deviants were dealt with in a reformist manner, which usually meant incarceration and brutal means of re-education.  

Political deviants, those who crusaded for liberal rights, were dealt with far more harshly, and were sent to Guantanamo Bay as terrorists.

“Did you ever do this before?” asked Redge as he bounced around in his seat trying to put on his seatbelt.

“No, but I’ve seen Smokey and the Bandit at least three times,” said Doug, “I got the gist of it.”

There was no point in trying to comfort Redge, he had screwed up so bad they were both destined for electrified testicals at the hands of marines. The only thing he had faith in now was 2.5 litres generating 300 hp under the hood. It was a small car, but it went it like hell. Doug remembered when he first bought the car he heard the maker used it in WRX rallies. When he asked what kind of modifications competitors did to the car to make it compete, the dealer replied all they did was take off some weight and put a roll cage in it, that was about it. Doug figured the all wheel drive would come in handy heading up into the mountains near Kelowna where his relatives lived. Now if he ever wanted to see them again, that all wheel drive better get one hell of an edge over a gang of 5000 pound rear wheel drive Lincoln Towncars with full police kit modifications.

“They’re catching up,” said Redge.

“Let them,” said Doug.

Doug knew they were reaching the point where the road was getting windey. If the border patrol cars smelled blood and were getting close to him, they were really going to floor it to attempt to pit him. If he hit the corner at just the right time, those way-heaver cars going faster than him would stand no chance of avoiding the gutter. They did over shoot the corner, but the cars had such strong steel reinforced frames all they had to do was bounce their way back to the road again.

Border patrol cars had the edge in horsepower and top speed, but Doug had the edge in cornering, and he picked this route in advance just for that reason. Again and again he raced through it at two to four am in the morning, memorizing every corner and how his car would handle it. He even mastered the trick of brake turns, sliding his car through corners under power with the confidence of a twelve year old playing a video game. This was his element, this is what he was good at.

“Are you sure you haven’t done this before?” asked Redge as the car did a 90 kph power-slide missing the gutter by inches.

“I grew up watching the Dukes of Hazzard,” said Doug.

“Well it looks like Boss Hog bought himself an Apache helicopter,” said Redge as he pointed up and behind out the passenger window.

Barrelling down a long straightaway, Doug looked out the right hand side window to see a military helicopter, bristling with armament from every corner hovering 50 feet above him.

“What the hell?” exasperated Doug, “Did you steal nuclear secrets or something?”

Redge just shrugged, looking flabbergasted. He was just a fugitive, as common as they get. Maybe he was an escapee from a reformist camp but that hardly made him special. Doug was prepared to face police helicopters, all they did report your position to the patrol cars, but a military copter could do a lot worse. Looking in the rear view mirror, Doug could see his manoeuvring through the winding roads got him far ahead of the patrol cars, but with this long straight road they would catch up again soon.

“Do you think they’d fire on us?” asked Doug.

“I don’t know,” said Redge, “Maybe, they’re armoured. He could try to ram us or block us.”

Swell, thought Doug. With the border getting close, he knew just where that helicopter was going to make it’s stand. It leaned forward, accelerated ahead of him effortlessly, and settled down on the road right in front of the 49th parallel. Doug stared right down the barrel of a Vulcan 30 mm cannon, and floored it.

“Uhh.. if you wanna play chicken, the helicopter is going win,” said Redge, going white with fright.

Doug had no intention of ramming the copter. He was going to blink first, it was just a matter of faking left or right, and Doug hoped whoever flew that helicopter wasn’t a WRX rally fan. One common method WRX rally cars performed to take corners at high speed was a manoeuvre that involved building a swinging momentum in the rear end of the car. You started by turning into the turn slightly and way too early, then you pitched outwards away from the turn wildly and then bring the front end into it as hard as you could. This caused the rear end to pitch outwards wanting to slide way too wide, and you stayed in the curve by hammering the gas down as the car faced inwards and slid sideways.

To an amateur, it would look like Doug was faking right. He went left, hard and wild with gravel flying out from under his wheels and hammering his undercarriage mercilessly. The apache was caught off guard, and pitched back and forth for a second as the pilot couldn’t make up his mind on whether to go left or right. He decided to simply stay with left and swing it right around until he faced Doug’s car, sitting on the Canadian side of the border.

Doug was about to let out a series of guffaws and obscene gestures when he saw Redge bolt from the car and with the quickest rationale he ever had he unbuckled and bolted in the other direction. The helicopter was firing before he even got the door fully open. Bits of shrapnel exploded all around him, three catching him in his leg as he dived for the gutter. Not feeling the pain yet, he squirmed into a drainage pipe no more than two feet wide that ran under the road. He could see Redge with the headpiece missing from his fursuit crammed into the pipe on the other side. When the firing stopped, Redge raised his finger to his lips and Doug took that as a cue not to move until Redge moved first.

They stayed in the pipe for nearly half an hour. Maybe Redge, being a rabbit furry felt comfortable with being in a hidey hole, but Doug was extremely uncomfortable, sitting in the stream water that ran through the pipe.  He watched a small trickle of his blood be carried away in the small stream.  They didn’t hear anyone come across. There was no one around. Soaked in water and his own blood, Doug crawled out of the pipe and hobbled onto the road, noticing his clothes were burned and ruined. A piece of his cat ears was missing like someone took a bite out of it.  He intended to continue to wear it as a symbol of pride.  His leg was aching but he was grateful not to be in shock, until he saw what was left of his car.

“They let us go y’know,” said Redge.

“You mean they know we’re not dead?” said Doug, not believing it as he surveyed the unrecognizable remains of smoking wreck, “Pretty damn irresponsible way just to bleep with us, don’t you think?”

“You don’t know what it’s like over there,” said Redge, “All they ever do is bleep with you. Jesus, they play these God damn games all the time where they tie up and threaten to slaughter you in the manner in which your animal type is usually slaughtered.  They sicked their dogs on me three times!  To train them, you know?  It was just like when my grandmother told me when the Germans came to her town.  Hell, it’s worse.”

Cursing to himself, Doug pulled out a cellphone and dialled it as he leaned on his good leg.

“Are you calling a ride?” asked Redge.

“More than that,” said Doug, “I’m calling a flatbed truck. I want the whole damn world to see this. Unless everyone thinks Canadians suddenly decided to shoot up their own cars with 30 mm depleted uranium rounds I want the world to see what kind of friendly neighbours we have.”





Offline Blade Dance

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Border Crossing
« Reply #1 on: May 05, 2004, 01:42:58 pm »
'<img'>  Interesting, it was well written. I enjoyed reading it. *whispers* However be careful with certain adult related words in the forums, don't want the pups and cubs over hearing them. I don't mind though. *giggles*

Great Story! Just one question though, have you ever seen an Apache bullet? One round is enough to rip a body in half! I've seen it first hand unfortunately. May want to change the three bullets in his leg to one perhaps grazing him...just a suggestion, to give your story the complete realism. The rest was perfect!!!  '<img'>  Got any more?  '<img'>
~Jahmus~ The Jedi Fur

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Offline Jackalman

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Border Crossing
« Reply #2 on: May 05, 2004, 09:36:41 pm »
Yep, I got more.

About the Apache bullet, you're absolutely right.  I did try to write clearly that the helicopter shot the car, and not at Doug.  But if that happened in real life, the amount of shrapnel exploding off the car would have killed anyone standing near it instantly.  

Some of these bullets don't just travel straight through the air like a common rifle bullet.  They spin violently which is designed to rip up and ricochet hell all over the place.  A couple of rounds would have been enough to destroy the car and kill all bystanders.

The "Outrun the explosion" bit is just a well used Hollywood vehicle commonly used to build suspense.

I'm actually working on a movie script right now about a private detective who get drawn into the furry world looking for a missing girl, and winds up getting addicted to dressing as a furry himself.

Offline Blade Dance

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Border Crossing
« Reply #3 on: May 06, 2004, 02:13:17 am »
'<img'>  Sounds good! Would like to read that sometime. As for the Apache, I meant no disrespect. I was just curious if you knew of the weapons potential.

 ':blush:'  Guess you know. LOL I really did like the story, I would diffenately like to read more!
~Jahmus~ The Jedi Fur

My Furry Code: FC FCFmps3admrw A+ C- D+ H++ M P+++ R+++ T+++ W Z Sp+++ RLA a+ c++ e++ f++++ h++++ i+++ j+ p+ sm++.

Offline Loganberry

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Border Crossing
« Reply #4 on: May 06, 2004, 09:27:18 am »
I liked that! Not least because of the rally cars! I loved the opposite lock round the corner about halfway down. '<img'>

I don't know what a WRX car is (or even whether it exists in RL), but the WRC cars used for the world championship have a good deal more modifications than just a rollcage and less weight, so I'm assuming that WRX is a lower-tech series by comparison (sort of like NASCAR as opposed to the DTM). There is a roadgoing Subaru Impreza WRX - maybe it's based on that? And I hear Colin McRae is free right now, so maybe he'd be useful as a getaway driver... in suitably furry form, of course! (*imagines McRae as a Scottish wildcat* '<img'> )




Hazel considered this lot briefly, but it beat him.