Franky Furbo. William Wharton
for the grave-registrar bunch, and they won’t be along till much later. Everybody’s too damned busy fighting the crappy war to pay much attention to us for now. We’re sort of obsolete.
It’s getting to be night again when I hear a small scurrying sound. That wakes me! I’m sure it’s rats come for a free nibble. We had rats in the night at the orphanage. I wonder, if I try, if I can make a noise like a cat. I try making a noise and two things happen. The ‘dead’ Kraut starts to moan; muddy tears come out of his eyes, puddle with his muddy sweat. The other thing is I can hear myself as well as hear his moan. Of course, I’d also heard the scurrying, so my ears must be working. I try to turn my head a little, but it hurts, hard, down deep in my back, under all the dirt. My arms, hands, legs and feet begin feeling cold – not so much cold as dead. I’m starting to wish all of me could feel as dead as they seem. At least they don’t hurt.
I look around for the rats, but there aren’t any. It’s a fox! It’s a beautiful fox standing on two legs! He comes close and begins carefully, with small fine almost handlike paws, scraping dirt off the Kraut and me.
I watch, not knowing what’s happening or what to do. Then the fox looks me in the eyes and says in a clear, calm voice:
‘Stay perfectly still, William. I’ll have you out of here very soon.’
Now I’m sure I’m dead or crazy, or both, but there’s nothing I can do. He slowly lifts off the Kraut’s helmet and gently slides his head off my chest. He works slowly, carefully, pulling dirt from the both of us until we’re completely uncovered. Then this little fox stares down and at me again.
‘Now you do just as I say, William, and everything will be all right.’
I’m sure I’m dead now, but how is it nobody ever figured out God was a fox? The Kraut moans again, and the fox touches him all over with his light, tender, moving paws. He speaks to him in another language. I’m not sure, but it sounds like German. In either language, his voice is a strong modulated whisper, warm and comforting, still loud enough so I hear it easily through the mud and dirt packed in my ears.
He turns back to me. His eyes are an incredible yellowish amber.
‘William, you shall both die unless you do exactly what I tell you.’
I’m numb, dumb with shock and fear. His eyes peer intelligently at me over his reddish black muzzle.
‘Look deeply into my eyes. Try to relax. You will have a strange sensation, but it is the only way I can think right now to remove you from here and to a place where I can help you.’
I stare into his eyes and slowly seem to feel myself lifting out of my body. At the same time, I sense an intense enclosing concentration, a compaction of all I am. The closest thing I can think of is the way it would feel for loose snow to be squeezed into a snowball. I slowly become as nothing. The pain and numbness leave, then I lose consciousness.
4
The Warren
The next thing I know, Caroline, I’m in a large room. I’m stretched out on a bed. My entire body is in traction, with pulleys and weights hanging from rafters in a ceiling. The ceiling, rafters, walls and floors are made from wood, and they’re not painted. It seems like a strange kind of hospital. But I’m in a clean bed and it’s quiet. I don’t feel any pain if I lie still, not even a headache.
I try to remember what’s happened to me. I can move my hands, my arms, if I do it carefully, but it is painful. I turn my head slowly back and forth. In the bed beside me is the German soldier. He’s asleep and breathing hard. I recognize him by his split front teeth. I have the same kind of teeth myself, you know, Caroline, and when I see it in someone else I always remember it. I have a feeling of family with people who have this kind of teeth.
I figure that somehow some medics, Kraut or American, have found us, and we’re in a field hospital somewhere. I couldn’t care too much which, Kraut or American. I’m beginning to believe I’m alive and out of the war, out of pain. I fall gently back to sleep.
When I wake again, I can’t believe what I see. A giant fox is leaning over me, checking my bandages, checking the bottles and tubes hanging above my bed. He’s human sized and wearing white doctorlike clothes! He has the build of a medium-sized man, taller than most bears.
He sees I’m awake and lays his paw on my forehead. The underside of his paw is soft but feels cool.
‘Well, William, you are awake at last. Those were really horrible wounds you had, but you shall soon be all right. You had two fractured vertebrae, which were hard to repair without damage to your spinal cord. You also had six broken ribs and a broken collarbone. There was some damage to your liver and one of your lungs as well, but that is all repaired.’
I’m beginning to wonder again whether I’m dead. But this is even more than I’d expect if I were dead; this is all just nuts. The fox is still standing there, leaning over me. The tip of his nose is wiggling so the whisker hairs dance.
‘I’m sorry, William, I know it must be very confusing. I can tell you that you are not dead and you are not crazy either. I should also tell you I cannot only speak English, but that your thoughts speak to me as clearly as words.’
It takes a little courage getting myself to say anything. I have an inside feeling that if I begin talking to this giant fox all dressed up in a white coat like a doctor, I would definitely be bonkers. But what else is there to do? Maybe if I start talking, he’ll disappear and some real people will come running to help me.
‘How did I get here? What are you? What’s happening?’
The huge fox pulls a chair over from the wall. He sits in the chair beside me.
‘Now you just relax and listen, William. Your questions are hard to answer and the answers will be even harder for you to believe.
‘How did you get here? I brought you here from that hole where you were dying. I made you very small, along with Wilhelm across there, and carried you both back with me to my home. For me, it was not a long or difficult journey. I shall tell you why later. I brought you into my home to see if I could make you well. I should tell you that my home is in the inside of a tree. You think I am a big fox right now, and I could be if I wanted to, but actually I have made you and Wilhelm small and I am the natural size of a fox. You only think I am big because we’re the same size and you expect a fox to be smaller than you.’
He pauses. It’s almost as if he’s watching my brain and waiting until what he’s said has printed itself in there. I’m wondering how I could make this all up. In general, I’m not very imaginative. He starts talking again.
‘Don’t worry about it, William, just listen. You shall understand much more as time goes by. Your second question is harder because I do not understand it very much myself. “What am I?”
‘It seems easy just to say I am a fox. But you can see I am not an ordinary fox. For reasons I do not know or understand, I was born very intelligent, with many skills and abilities no fox or even humans have. I live by myself here in this tree. My mother, brother and sisters were ordinary foxes. I don’t know why or what I really am. I know that doesn’t answer your question, but it is the truth.
‘Now your next question. “What’s happening?” I was wondering the same thing. What’s happening here in this place where I live? Humans are dashing up and down, back and forth, killing one another, making noise, destroying towns. I know it is a war, but I don’t know why there must be all this killing, how they force all of you to do such a crazy thing.