This is Episode 6-5 of a serial urban fantasy & paranormal story.

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Part 6-5: Distractions

Step one of trash panda recruitment: summon keyshards. Easy (for me).

Step two, find fuzzy bandit in dark alley. Way easier than finding dogs, apparently.

Step three, mentally focus on fundamental raccoon sounds so that demon blobs can magically mind meld you to the beasts. Decidedly challenging.

Raccoons make a lot of sounds, and finding the one that made the blobs happy was an exercise of trial and error.

Scritching claws, nittering chirps, snuffling snorts, and mousey squeaks was the soundboard I worked with. For a while I made the mistake of trying to mentally amplify all of it as a symphony of raccoon-ness.

The trick, as it turned out, was to single out a particular sound and allow it to root and grow. I picked the snuffling sounds.

Once I had it, I recruited five furry friends and led them down alleys and side streets like a pied piper. While it was a little endearing, I didn’t feel like the line of five raccoons plodding purposely down the thin, trash lined corridors looked overly suspicious. If anyone but me could see the strange lumpy backpacks they wore, and the insectile probes that sprouted up and jabbed into the creatures’ brains, it might’ve been a different story.

However, the stealth situation was about to change once we reached the back of the gas station. I nominated the fattest of them, which I assumed might be the strongest, to be the book carrier. He or she got a hold of the relatively thin hardcover in their jaws, and attempted a forward march. But the weight of the thing forced the raccoon into a weird balancing act, such that he/she had to hold the tome almost straight up in the air in order to keep it from either dragging on the ground or putting too much strain on the neck.

The result went from an endearing line of critters that you might want to snap a picture of to a veritable circus show wherein the pack leader wobbled forward, hoisting a dripping book and a devout following of cultists paraded behind, eager to get the book wherever it was going and dare to uncover its sacred knowledge.

Worried I’d attract a following of humans seeking Internet points, I took my time guiding my bizarre procession through the darkest paths and emptiest side streets.

All told, it took more than hour from book drop to the point where I’d assembled our task force in one of the offshoot alleys behind the John B. Zachary Center. Deluxe and Fergus kept me updated: no one had interrupted them and they’d circled around almost five times. The tails had dissipated or had made themselves less obvious. So far so good.

There were still guards on the corners of the building. I didn’t think they’d be too concerned with my new friends, but the book thing felt too risky. So what we did was have them find an old plastic bag, get the book inside, and risk the scraping noises it made versus try anything too weird or elaborate.

It seemed to work. A guard definitely noticed the rodent racket as the pack cavorted across the alley to the back of the main building, seeking refuge in the sunken, trashy area near the egress window we’d used before. But I’d wagered that they’d seen a ton of scavenger activity before and were numb to it by now.

The guard peered down the alley, put a hand to their headset, and walked closer. Shit.

I tried to communicate: ‘act like you normally would’ to the animals. Currently they were huddled in the little dip in the ground. As the guard approached, they scattered and fled.

“I think it was a family of them or something,” reported the man. He listened, then, “Nothing that out of the ordinary, no.” He stayed around for a minute, scanning the alley, before returning to his post.

The bees, I supposed, had tipped them off to strange animal behavior. Of course.

“Any suggestions, crew?” I asked of the car-bound team, after relaying my hypothesis.

“Distraction? Gooey up one of their computers with your doom ray, that should upset ‘em,” said Fergus.

“And place the task force on high alert…” countered Deluxe.

“Stealth first, then distractions, probably,” I said, working out a plan as I talked it out.

I gathered up the raccoons, positioning them back in the same alley that we’d started from. It was another waiting game: when the guards glanced away, I sent one of them slinking across, low to the ground and stepping soft. Then we got to the window, and I had one of them chomp my fingers. This hurt well enough, and I vaporized the glass, and we were in. My leader made great pains to pick up the bag with the book with utter silence.

Getting up to the fifth did involve a distraction. I found some haphazard shelving units full of rusting paint cans near the basement door. Another bite, and one of the supports vanished. Down came the cans, and sure enough a hot minute later came the stairwell guard.

While they were investigating, we scampered up, narrowing missing being caught by another pair of people who entered the building at main level. I heard snippets of what they were talking about, and it sounded like we were pushing our luck—too many interesting things happening too quickly.

“Let’s kick it into overdrive, then,” I said to the fuzzballs. They blinked at me with empty, shiny eyes. “Don’t all volunteer at once,” I muttered.

We picked our way up to my favourite numbered door. The fat wires running from Doctor Evil-Deluxe’s setup propped it open, enough that my invaders could squirt through. I’d kinda hoped I’d be able to destroy it.

“Alena, we’ve got a veritable fleet converging on us now,” said Deluxe. “Something changed. This isn’t subtle, they’re trying to shield us from other motorists—two minutes until a good opportunity to force us into a side street.”

“Almost there,” I said. “Can you dupe ‘em and zip closer?”

“If it were the Lotus, surely. It’ll be a challenge in this.”

“Hey, I saved like five grand going base model,” complained Fergus.

“Unless we think we can get the fourth book close to Fergus in federal lockdown, this is it,” I said.

“Copy. Evasive action at first opportunity. Good luck girl.”

“Same to you. See you on the other side?”

“See you on the other side.”

I knelt and gripped the chunkiest cord. I held my other hand out to the leader raccoon.

“Get your molars into this one,” I said.

 

 

Continued in Part 6-6

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