Almost everyone that stood watching flinched. Some took a step back with the loud BANG, followed by three plumes of black smoke from the engine. The large 19 cylinder radial engine sputtered and coughed then the propeller slowly started spinning before more and more of the cylinders begun to fire. Sam clenched a fist as he watched along with the aircrew, mechanicsand other resistance fighters.

Sam, along with everyone stood in the forest clearing, whispered to himself, “Come on…. Come on”, before several of the fellow fighters around him yelled or shouted something along the same lines. The old engine attached to the rebuilt C119 seemed to listen and the engine, the last holdout of the three aircraft thundered to life. The propeller blades spun slow at first, than turned into a whirlwind, the black smoke disappeared, all 19 cylinders roaring. The aircraft with its wheels chocked, wings carefully tied down, seemed as if it wanted to lurch forward.

The crowd of Deer, Elk, Sheep and Bulls cheered, hooted and bleated to the roar of the engine. After nearly a year of hard grueling work, while maintaining the utmost secrecy all three aircraft were all but ready to fly. The pilot let the engine run a few minutes to warm up. The crew chief, a bull Elk with antlers that seemed like they could get caught in power-lines if he wasn’t careful, gave the pilots the cut it off sign. The propeller slowed as it came back to idle, then with a few more coughs came to a stop as the engine shut down. It ticked quietly as it cooled and the smell of burnt oil and exhaust hung in the air.

Almost as soon as the propeller stopped spinning the ground crew rushed in using long poles that held the camouflage cover over the whole clearing and aircraft. Hiding both the aircraft and camp from above. The mechanics and ground crew placed their ladders and other stands under the aircraft’s wing then checked the newly rebuilt engine for leaks and other issues, as well as some last minute tuning. Sam stood and looked at the odd metal bird, just soaking it in. A year ago, the biggest most advanced aircraft any of them had ever seen was a crop duster. Even then, that was only a few of them and mostly the pilots.

All but a few of the mechanics had only worked on tractors, lawn mowers, weed eaters, maybe a motorcycle or old Chevy pickup. The aircraft themselves were relics of a bygone era, Fairchild C119s nicknamed flying boxcars. The predators had retired the last of the “Boxcars” more than a decade before and left them in boneyards to rot. Seemingly caring so little they didn’t even bother guarding them, not imagining a bunch of grass eaters could get one running, much less fly one.

Sam smiled to himself. The predators would learn soon enough. Sam turned away from the boxcar to see his spotter Murphy headed his way. Sam waited and ran a hand over one of his trimmed back antlers, they needed to be cut lest they get caught in the parachute lines.

Murphy was still young and looked much like Sam did at that age, fifteen or sixteen, it was hard to know. Like Sam, he was liberated from a meat farm and they didn’t celebrate birthdays. Murphy was lucky he had no need to trim his antlers. The best antler Murphy could manage to grow was one crooked antler that bent inward. Almost giving him discount version of a unicorn look, at least from a distance.

Murphy figuratively and literally looked up to Sam and rarely left his side and Sam had done his best to take the young buck under his wing. Even if he feared the young buck wasn't quite right in the head. Sam and his damned stammer and his unicorn spotter made quite the pair, or so he was told.

Murphy stopped in front of Sam and pointed back to the still ticking and cooling aircraft, “They actually got it going huh?”

Sam nodded, “Ta they sure did, th th they were up all night and all morning working nu na on that last engine.”

Murphy turned his head and looked at the Boxcar, “ You think it will, ummm you know umm fly like for real?”

Sam turned and studied the aircraft. A year ago It was just a collection of parts dismantled into pieces and secretly moved to this location with trucks and tractors. Some of the pieces just being carried on the backs of the bigger members of the resistance. The crew chief carried almost an entire wing on his own back 50 miles. Sam felt the sawed-off flat nub of his right antler before answering. “She will fly alright, they all wa waWILL fly, those bucks and Rams have da done real good!”

Murphy still didn’t look certain, like most of them, he had never been in an airplane before. They had practiced their jumps with the aircraft on the ground and had rigged up a tower for parachute training. They couldn’t risk the fuel or giving away their position to actually take test flights. Sam slapped Murphy on the back, “Let’s ga ga Grab lunch, wii wa we have a busy few days ahead of a a Us.”

The two walked over and got in line for the second lunch of the day, something predators could never seem to understand about herbivores. A number of smaller meals was better for them, than one or two large ones. This gave them more time to chew their cud. Sam held out his metal canteen cup and one of the mess attendants placed a scoop of corn followed by a smaller scoop of oats in his cup and did the same for for Murphy right behind him. After filling his canteen with fresh water, Sam sat down on a log between two of the aircraft and Murphy sat beside him.

Sam pulled a salt shaker from one of his upper pockets and sprinkled some salt over his lunch. He looked over to Murphy who looked rather dejected at his own canteen cup before he looked over to Sam’s cup.

Just from a glance Sam could tell that both their meals were almost exactly the same size. But Murphy still looked uncertain, and despite Sam’s better judgment he gave in and asked.

“What’s wrong now, ya ya you not hungry ?”

Murphy shook his head no, “corn and oats again?”

Sam rubbed his right eye before he replied “You la la Love Corn and Oats …we all LOVE corn and oats, what’s the problem?“

Murphy stared down into his canteen cup and sniffed, “I dunnoknow, can I have what you’re having?”

Sam pinched the bridge of his muzzle and sighed, he really didn’t feel like doing this again. Sam sighed and nodded, “Sure buddy, you ja ja just don’t tell the others ooooK? It’s suppose to be for officers only, just ba ba between you and ma me?”

Murphy nodded happily “oh yes yes sure thing Sam our little secret.” Sam handed his cup over to Murphy, Murphy passed his over to Sam. Murphy happily plunged his muzzle into the corn and oats, Sam pulled out his salt shaker again before he ate more slowly.

The next few days went by in a blur, the ground crews finished their work on the three aircraft. They checked then double checked then triple checked everything. The barrels of aviation fuel were carefully brought in one by one and hand-cranked pumps transferred fuel into the wings. The gun bunnies, literally two platoons of Rabbits, cleaned, oiled and checked their weapons. From their small .22 pistols they all carried to the obscenely large ones compared to their size like the Browning M2.

The Rams mostly sat around and smoked far, far too close to crates marked ’HIGH EXPLOSIVES’ or leaned on their motorcycles. Some already dressed in their stolen Highway Patrol uniforms.

The Deer, the tip of the spear for this particular operation were the first of their kind to ever attempt an assault of this type, size and complexity in modern times. Each helped the other into their parachute harnesses, and made sure the straps weren’t twisted and everything was cinched down before piling on even more gear. Each one of them would jump with 100 pounds worth of gear besides the parachute rig itself. Sam felt like he had a bale of hay strapped to his back and a sack of grain to his front. Sam swore under his breath as he stood, surprised his hooves hadn’t sunk deep into the soft forest dirt.

Sam took a few moments to find his balance under all the weight and after a few adjustments looked back to his spotter. Murphy was trying to stand up with his pack and gear but kept sitting back down on the log. Sam held up a hand for him to stop, “mhmm mMurphy, stop, lee let me help you, wee wa with all those explosives in that pa pa pack you’ll blow us all up.” Sam immediately felt horrible for the comment when Murphy immediately froze in place with his eyes wide in fear.

Sam smiled and held out his hands in a placating motion. “Ra rrrrra Relax my friend, I wa was just joking, re remember the briefing. Tha this stuff is stable, it won’t blow up wa wa with impact like the old sticks of da da Dynamite.” Murphy nodded his understanding before he replied, “ what did those crazy Rabbits call it? “ Sam chuckled and genuinely smiled. “They ca ca called it angry silly putty… just stay away from the rodents, tha they’re a little nutty themselves.” Murphy nodded and took Sam’s hand, Sam helped him get on his hooves. “Nana NOW… let’s go the ma mission briefing it’s about to sa starT.”

All of the newly formed elite paratroopers moved towards the central clearing. The three aircraft each sat in their own little clearings off to one side. A small stage, little more than a few boxes and planks of wood was set up in front of one of the aircraft. That C119 was painted a dark green with nose art of a lighting bolt crossed with sword and almost as sharp looking antler. The 200 Deer milled about, some nervously chatted among themselves, some just chewed their cud, some just stood and smoked.

Sam and Murphy stood off to one side near the wingtip of the aircraft that was behind the stage. The Rams sat on their motorcycles near the edge of the clearing and kept guard and the Rabbits stayed in the trees unseen but could hear well enough. The Colonel stepped onto the stage. He hardly needed it, his antlers reached nearly halfway to the camo netting far above.

The assembled Deer stomped their hooves a few bleated, hootedand hollered. Murphy in his exuberant stomping nearly lost his balance. Sam grabbed one of his parachute harnesses straps to steady him before slapping him on the back, which nearly sent the young buck muzzle-forward into the dirt before Sam caught him for the second time and steadied him.

The Colonel was dressed in a clean dress uniform that was a mix of a business suit and different elements from the predator’s military. including a band of fangs from fallen predators, some very small white and pointy, some rather yellow and large. Over each shoulder he wore several different strips of fur from predators the he had killed. Rumors and stories claimed two of those strips were from a Kodiak Bear and a Timber Wolf. The Colonel held up a hand and more than 200 sets of eyes and ears focused on him.

The Colonel’s baritone voice boomed, “Today is the combination of more than a year’s work, over one-thousand of us strong, tens of thousands of hours of hard grueling work, back breaking work, training and planning!” The crowd erupted with more bleats and stomping of hooves. “ALL OF YOU, Every last one of you have gone above and beyond, starving at times with little grain, no grass or hay. It was a cold brutal winter! YES, yes Juan I see you there I remember those cold January nights standing in these trees!” Juan a stocky bull of a buck, the charismatic leader of second battalion, smiled and waved as his soldiers slapped him on the back and jostled him around.

“ IT HAS BEEN A LONG LONG ROAD… and today …TODAY IS OUR DAY. THE PREDATORS THINK THEY ARE SAFE IN THEIR CITES BEHIND BARBED WIRE AND MACHINE GUNS! They think after they have burned the fields and burned the forests around their precious cites we can’t get to them, that we should just give up lie down die and be eaten!!” The crowd stomped their hooves and booed. The Colonel held up a hand again to quiet them. “ OH NO WE WILL NOT LIE DOWN AND BE EATEN! WE WILL STAND TALL BE HEARD AND WILL NOT STOP UNTIL WE HAVE A RIGHTFUL PLACE IN THIS SOCIETY!!”

“TODAY WE WILL ATTACK, not with some cobbled together crop dusters like we have in the past! NO no, not with gas bombs that will leave the predators choking and dying in the streets. Today we will leave the predators in their precious cities in the dark. We don’t need no electricity… the predators can’t live without it. So as you’ve all been wondering, speculating and gossiping about, YES, YES Jerry I see you there don’t sulk away now.”

“Your brave and talented pilots have already been briefed on this a week ago so they could plan and prepare. Without knowing it, all of you have been training for the past several months for just this very job. Today we attack the Wendy Gully hydroelectric dam!” A young and very attractive doe set an easel and number of large pages up on stage next to the Colonel. The Colonel could have disappeared at that very moment, and it would’ve taken everyone several moments to get their eyes off his young assistant to notice. She gave the crowd of bucks a little wave before she turned, then showed off her voluptuous tail and stepped off the stage.

The Colonel smiled and cleared his throat before he continued, “your target is not technically the dam itself.” He turned the first picture around that showed the large concrete structure that ran across a narrow valley. Then quickly turned to a second picture closer up of two rectangular buildings near the base of the structure. “Your target is the turbines inside these two buildings, the turbines use water in the reservoir behind the dam to create the electric.”

Many of the soldiers looked at each other than back up at the Colonel before one of them shouted out. “YA CANT MIX WATER AND ELECTRIC YA DIE, IS THAT SOME KIND OF WITCHCRAFT??” THESE PREDATORS ARE MIXING WATER WITH ELECTRICITY NOW… WILL THEIR CRIMES AGAINST NATURE NEVER END!?!” The crowd erupted in angry shouts and hollering. The Colonel stomped a hoof, one of the boards he stood on cracked audibly.

“SETTLE DOWN SETTLE DOWN FOR THE LAST TIME ITS NOT Witchcraft or Black magIc not everything is magic, it’s technology! Your squadron leaders are being given detailed plans and photographs of this facility. Our scouts were able to make the long journey through enemy territory by hoof to take these pictures. They were able to send us these plans and pictures at great risk. They’ve been able to make contact occasionally by going to a unusual establishment in the area called 7th of 11. After the crop duster attacks the predators have set up air defenses but in this area, they are relatively light. The predators will never suspect we could attack this far behind their lines. After this briefing you all will have two hours to review the briefing materials with your platoon and squad leaders. And to learn exactly where to plant these explosives, that we lost so many good bucks to get.”

“A moment of silence for the 682 souls we lost that bloody March morning in the cold snow…. “

“Now as you will be briefed by your leaders our target is the turbine generators not the dam itself or surrounding town. As we have learned civilian casualties simply lead to greater and greater retaliation on our brothers and sisters still being held on the farms. All of you are under direct orders to limit civiliancasualties, if they aren’t shooting, trying to bite or eat you, leave them be. IS THAT UNDERSTOOD ?”

All 200 bucks replied in unison “YES SIR!”

The Colonel nodded and continued, “now this plastic dynamite, we captured should be more than enough to destroy the generators and leave the predators in the dark. We were unable in that raid to capture the exact tables for this plastic dynamite. To ensure the mission is successful we are going to use twice the amount by weight than if we were using, the dynamite that we used back on the farms. This plastic C4 as it’s labeled is very stable as you have been trained. We are running under the assumption that since it’s so stable. It’s not quite as powerful as dynamite. Still use caution and place it where it’s shown on the pictures only!”

“Once the charges and timers are set, all of you will disperse with your individual squads. As the predators call us, you will disappear like the ghosts of the woods. Now break off into your squads and start studying these materials, your individual responsibility, those of the bucks next to you and positions you will take. The mission will commence in two hours….MAKE THESE PREDATORS WISH THEY WERE BORN WITH HOOVES COME BACK ALIVE … DON’T GET DEAD!” The coward cheered and stomped their hooves as the Colonel stepped off the stage.

Two hours later Sam and Murphy were crammed into the so-called flying boxcar with 60 other sardines. Slightly disconcertingly to Sam in the front of the aircraft. The two ram pilots stood just outside the front hatch seeming to be sharing a drink as the last few minutes ticked down. The two 2 pilots turned and looked when they heard a pop and a flare shot into the sky.

The bigger, slightly grayer of the rams with almost full curls on his horns turned to his co-pilot. “Ready to fly Junior ?”

The smaller of the two took one last swig from his flask before answering, “Seems like a lovely day to fly old ram.”

The two smacked horns lightly and climbed on board, Sam must’ve given them a look from his seat. The younger of the two motioned offhandedly towards him. “Nice antlers big guy” before he followed the first pilot into the cockpit. Sam controlled his urge to say something snide or get up and kick the pilot in his oversized wool covered nuts. This would be the worst possible time to get in another fight with the Sheep, short, squat, fat bastards that they were. Instead, Sam just gritted his teeth, he was still upset about trimming his antlers, they had been coming in real nice this year, 14 points at least.

The pilot checked his instruments and switches before reaching behind the pilot seat and pulling out his donut pillow and sitting down. The co-pilot took his seat and started his checks and double checks. Outside, the large camo net over the clearing in the forest was pulled back, the clear blue sky and sun light shined on the three aircraft sitting in their secret clearing.

To an outside observer, it would look like a dozen or more Rabbits were just happily hopping and skipping through the trees. Seeming to go around each tree twice like they were doing Ring Around the Rosie. One would’ve needed to look closer to see each one carrying a reel of what looked like slightly thick rope.

Pilot, “Check list please”

Co-Pilot, “Here we go… hydraulic quantity?”

Pilot, “Check and full “

As the two pilots finished the check list one the ground crew waived, both pilots looked up. The crewmember held up both hands than dropped them. Both pilots quickly put on their aviator glasses as a flash and sharp crack erupted at the base of the trees. A 50 yard patch of trees in front of the planes fell, which gave the pilots a clear view and the aircraft a path acrossa well packed field to a short dirt road. A mile or so away a four-lane interstate that would be their runway.

Despite knowing it was coming Sam jumped a little at the sharp crack and the trees falling. Sam looked out the window behind him to see one of the crew chiefs using a bulldozer to clear away the fallen trees. Just a few minutes later the engine on the left side of the aircraft, coughed, sputtered, and came to life. The one on the right side a minute later, the old plane rattled and shook but seemed to be holding together.

Co-pilot, “Oil pressure and temps all look good!”

Pilot “Check, ready to taxi” the old Ram pilot in the left seat motioned to the ground crew, that they were good and slid open his left window. He waved at aircraft to the left, both the pilots, also Rams looked over. He held his left arm as far as he could out the window and flipped them the bird. Both the pilots in the other aircraft pointed and returned the gesture. The pilot laughed before popping a quick salute to his colleagues and closed the window.

Pilot, “Clear left”

Co-pilot, “Clear right”

Pilot, “Alright let’s see if this old bird can still fly” he put his right hand on the throttles and pushed them forward very gently. A Elk with a B.A.R. , a Browning automatic rifle, across his back walked in front of the aircraft while a Rabbit at each wing tip carried M3 submachine ‘ grease guns’ . The aircraft rolled slowly forward across the clearing than through the newly created opening in the trees. The other two aircraft followed just behind the first. In a few minutes they were out of their forest and on the dirt road.

The road was graded flat and smooth, unusual for a dirt road so far out in the country, making it a good taxiway. The wheat crops on either side of the road were cut short. Six Highway patrol motorcycles lead the three out of place aircraft towards the interstate.

A German Shepherd Highway Patrol Canine, in his police spec Dodge Diplomat sang along to the song as he cruised down the highway.

“Whoa Black Betty (Bam-ba-lam)
Yeah Black Betty (Bam-ba-lam)
Black Betty had a child (Bam-ba-lam)
Damn thing gone…. WHAT THE FUCK!?!”

He slammed both his paws on the brake pedal as both the east- and westbound bridges a hundred yards in front of him exploded and collapsed in cloud of dust and flying concrete. His patrol cruiser slewed from side to side as it skidded to a stop only a few feet from the chasm. Chunks of broken concrete and dust rained down on the Dodge. A Ford station wagon nearly rear ended his cruiser, its driver side fender, narrowly missing the rear passenger fender of his car and slid off onto the ditch beyond the grassy shoulder.

In sheer shock he flipped on his lights, made sure no one else was about to rear end him, then stepped out of his patrol car to look at the smoldering ruins of the bridge. A rumble to his left, made him look over in that direction. He could hardly comprehend what he saw, a bunch of motorcycle patrols leading a plane, no three planes? They didn’t have motor patrol units out this far in the sticks, did they? He turned to sit back in his patrol car to call this in. Just then, a stack of hay bales he hadn’t noticed before, just off the side of the highway fell over.

What Officer Pendleton saw in the next half second made his tail curl between his legs, his ears go flat, his blood turn to ice water and tested his sphincter. Under a layer of hay bales was a sand bagged machine gun nest… the unmistakable barrel and outline of a M2 Browning heavy machine gun pivoted to point directly between his eyes with a bunny standing behind it? Old instincts from his time in the army kicked in and he dropped to the pavement a millisecond before the first boom and 50cal round whizzed over his head. The round went through the Dodge’s left fender, engine block, right fender and a sign post before going through several thick trees on the other side of the highway.

Officer Pendleton held both his hands over his flattened ears as the M2 went full auto, on his patrol vehicle. The overhead lights shattered, holes punched straight through the vehicle, the roof collapsed, the hood blew off and all four tires went flat. His radio was useless. When whoever they were stopped to reload, he pulled his .38 special revolver popped off a few shots, then got up and ran to the far ditch and dove in.

Pilot, “It’s getting a bit spicy out there. Pre-takeoff check list please and thank you!”

Murphy grabbed Sam’s knee at the sound of the gunfire and looked over. Sam smiled and patted Murphy knee, “All ga good, jaja just the gun bunnies baba blowing off some steam.”

The flying boxcar’s right wing crossed over the machine gun nest and rolled up the short earth ramp onto the highway. The Highway Patrol motorcycles sped down the highway, either encouraging drivers to keep going with some gunfire over the roof of their vehicles or into the trunk lids or getting cars or trucks off the road by less subtle means.

The pilots stood on the right rudder and turned their aircraft to face east down the now empty highway.

Co-pilot, “Engine run up?”

Pilot, “No time, let’s hope those screwball branch-heads put this bucket of bolts together right. You with me Jake?”

Co-pilot, “Flaps ten… let’s fly boss!”

The pilots looked down the highway, and with no cars or trucks in sight, both tightened the straps over their shoulders. The pilot placed his right hand on both throttles. The co-pilot placed his left hand behind his uncles, together they pushed both throttles forward to the stops.

If Sam, Murphy or any of the other 58 bucks in the rear of the aircraft thought the boxcar rattled and shook before, they were ill-prepared for the noise, rattling and shaking it did with both engines under full power. Sam thought that if he hadn’t had to trim his antlers for the mission, the vibrations might have shaken them right off his skull. He thought he could feel his teeth rattling in his head as the plane picked up speed.

Co-pilot, “Airspeed is alive, pressure temperature good… watch that cross wind… 70 knots… 90 knots… V1 …110… 120… 130…. V2 ROTATE!

The boxcar sped down eastbound lanes of the interstate, its front landing gear wheels right down the center line. Its left wing cut through the air above cars and pickups on the west bound side of the highway. Drivers stuck their heads out their windows and gawked at the oncoming planes and ducked reflexively as the plane’s wing passed over. The wing just missed the tops of several semis before the nose wheel lifted off the pavement followed by the main wheels a few agonizing moments later.

Co-pilot, “Positive rate!”

Pilot, “Gear up!”

Sam along with the rest of the bucks in the back, let out a collective breath as the plane lifted off and the vibrations lessened considerably. Pretty sure they weren’t about to die immediately they all cheered and bleated as the C119 climbed into the sky.

As the three aircraft climbed into the eastern sky towards the setting sun. They left behind thousands of very confused motorists, a traffic jam that would last for days, and one disheveled, mud covered Highway Patrol Canine that would never eat or abuse a Rabbit again.

Many of the bucks in the back of the aircraft seemed uneasy at the sensation of flying. Almost none of them had ever been on a plane during flight before. All of their training had been done on mockups or the aircraft while they sat on the ground. Parachute training, was done using wooden towers they had constructed deep in the wilderness. Some of them seemed to enjoy the views and looked out the windows, amazed by the high vantage point of the scenery.

Sam turned to Murphy, “Czzz sea see that wasn’t so bad now was it?” Murphy rocked back-and-forth slightly, looked over to Sam before he hunched forward and threw up on the metal floor. Sam held back his own gag reflex from the smell and patted Murphy on the back. “La la let it out, it’s ah ah all good the worst izzz is over now.”

The pilot gritted his teeth and held a death grip on the control yoke, the engines roared and the C119 stood on its left wing as it flew through the night and narrow valley. The left wing tip looked like it was inches from taking off the tops of trees. As it flew at over 230 knots through the sharp turn. The pilot yelled over the roar of the engines to his co-pilot and nephew, “ROLL HER OUT WITH ME NICE AND EASY DON’T LET HER CLIMB MUCH …. EASY NOW EASY DOES IT!”

Sam peaked through one eyelid as he lay nearly on his back, the buck across from him seemed like he hung from what was now the ceiling by his safety straps that he and Sam dearly hoped wouldn’t break. The aircraft seemed to level out all of a sudden, Sam groaned as felt all four of his stomachs drop into the seat of his pants.

Co-pilot “ I DON’T THINK WE CRUSTED THE VALLEY WALLS WE SHOULD STILL BE OFF RADAR. Should be seeing the… BRIDGE DEAD A HEAD!”

The Pilot saw the tall concrete and steel bridge over the narrow valley at the same time. “HELP ME UP AND OVER” he placed his forearms behind the control yoke and pulled back with his arm muscles with his nephew, doing the same. He split his attention between the rapidly approaching concrete and steel bridge and the vertical speed indicator. “ COME ON COME ON CLIMB YOU HEAP OF SHIT CLIMB!!”

If there had been any cars on the roadway, the tail boom would have smacked into them, most likely taking the tail off at high speed…

Co-pilot, “ I see the lights, 3… 4 minutes!”

The pilot reached to the overhead and flipped a switch. One of three lights between the two rear doors turned red. Everyone in the back of the plane turned their eyes to the light instantly. The co-pilot yelled back “ THREE MINUTES STANDBY!!”

Everyone unbuckled their safety belts, Murphy took a sip of water and nudged Sam. Sam shook his head no, Murphy jabbed him again, harder this time, Sam looked over rolled his eyes and nodded. Sam couldn’t talk right to save his life, just oddly enough he could sing just fine and by all accounts was pretty good.

Sam cleared his throat, took a deep breath and started…

“Do you hear the people sing?”

“Lost in the valley of the night”

Everyone looked over and Sam nearly stopped before Charlie,across from him joined in. They all knew the lyrics. At the same time the pilot turned to his nephew and squeezed his shoulder. “It’s been a good flight, you done good!”

Jake smiled back “ Thank Uncle C.”

He nodded. “Ready ?” Jake looked at the lights of the rapidly approaching small town and the dam dead ahead. “ Ready!” Both pilots grabbed the control yokes and pulled back hard… the vertical speed needle jumped up and altitude increased as the plane climbed.

All 60 bucks, some better singers than others raised their voices belted out the lyrics, shouting them to the heavens, heads held high!”

“It is the music of a people who are climbing to the light!”

“For the WRETCHED of the earth
There is a flame that never dies
Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise!!”

The engines roared as the plane left the trees in valley far below, the other two aircraft followed a few miles back.

“They will LIVE AGAIN in FREEDOM in the Garden of the LORD
They will walk behind the ploughshare
They will put away the SWORD
The CHAINS will be broken and all bucks will have their REWARD!!”

The light turned Yellow and all 60 bucks stood as they sang,“Who will be STRONG and STAND with Me? Each slapping their rip cord hook into the over head line as both rear doors were pulled up and secured.

“Somewhere beyond the barricade
Is there a world you long to see?”

“Do you hear the people sing?”
Say, do you hear the distant drums?
It is the future that they bring when TOMORROW COMES!!!”

The Jump Master, an old buck missing his left leg, stood on a crutch between the back two doors. Pointed at the first two bucks closest to the doors, both with their faces and muzzles painted black, grimly nodded that they were ready.

The light turned green and the Jump Master pointed out both doors, the first resistance paratroopers took the leap… as they jumped, the wind hit them, they were pushed horizontal. Those who chose to keep their eyes open, saw tail with its long horizontal, boom pass over them as their parachutes opened.

Just as Sam and Murphy approached the door, they embraced briefly already, knowing where to find each other once they landed and jumped into the dark night sky.


The Grey Fox, wearing a dark green camouflage uniform laughed and pounded on the small desk top in front of him with his right paw. He choked back the laugher and snorted a little, he pinched the bridge of his muzzle. “Okay okay, STOP IT, now what did she say?”

The Red Fox in a matching uniform sat next to him leaned back in his chair and lite lit a cigarette before replying. “Well, hehe, she said if he ain’t gonna wash it, he might as well … wait?!” Both looked at their radar screens in front of them, the cigarette slipped from the Red Fox’s lips. Both of them gaped at the three dots nearly on top of them, before they both uttered the the age old omen of trouble to come. “Oh shit!”

The Red Fox quickly turned and opened back door to the metal shed covered in camo netting. To his amazement and horror, he saw white parachutes descending into the valley. He turned back to the other lieutenant and barked, “WEAPONS FREE WEAPONS FREE, FIRE YOU FLEA BAG, it’s the fucking Grass Eaters!!”

The lieutenant who was sitting at the console swallowed hard and nodded. “FUCK I really do not want to be skinned alive FUCK FUCK FUCCCCCK!” He flipped the ‘ARM’ switch in front of him to make the weapons ready, then selected the first blip on his screen. He smashed down on the select/Fire button with his paw. Next, he grabbed his gas mask bag, ripped it open and shoved the mask over his face and muzzle.

A moment later, outside in a clearing of trees high on the rim of the valley a large green metal rectangular box pivoted on its mount and angled upwards, adjusted a little to the left, then alittle to the right. A flash of light, followed by the thunder of a rocket motor sent a Seahawk RIM-7.5 rocket into the sky. A second, third and fourth rocket followed seconds behind the first.


Marc lay on his bed wearing only a t-shirt emblazoned with a cartoonish ‘Nuke the Whales’ graphic. It was long past his bedtime and his dad was at the plant working on some project. Something about another leak and crappy concrete they had to patch again. Marc couldn't have cared less, he kept hoping the stupid dam would burst and wash this whole boring backwater town away.

Marc curled into a ball and ran his tongue over his own rather skinny if long red cock. He loved the feeling of it on tongue and how it felt as it ran between his canines. He wasn’t gay or anything, Marc had beat up another pup that who was rumored to be gay. That got him suspended for a week from school. But it wasn’t gay if it was your own cock, or so he reasoned as the first squirt of his salty hot cum sprayed across his whiskers. As Marc rubbed his swollen knot and orgasmed again his ears picked up a rumble off in the distance. He ignored it at first, but it seemed to get louder and louder. Curiosity got the better of him and still rubbing his dripping knot, he padded over to the window and peeked between two mini blinds.

Sam checked that his parachute had opened and hadn’t tangled or snagged in an antler. He wasn’t keen on plummeting into the narrow valley and being impaled by a tree or something equally as pointy and unpleasant. He looked around. There were more parachutes than he could reasonably count. At least he wasn’t alone, but he couldn’t figure out where Murphy was. He saw several flashes of light traveling from one of the hill tops toward the night sky but had no time to worry about it. The ground was coming up fast and it looked like he was going to land on either someone’s house or backyard.

Sam cut away his pack which fell away on a cord let it hang 10 feet below him, than bent his knees, crossed his hocks and held his hooves together. He was going to land on someone’s roof and hoped his impending impersonation of one of Santa‘s reindeer wouldn’t hurt too bad.

Sam hit hard with a resonating thud and the jolt went from his hooves to the top of his head. He bounced then smacked down hard on his back. He heard a loud crack as he landed and for several moments feared he had just broken his back. He then fell through the rotten roof. Sam felt another jolt as all 300+ pounds of his bulk smashed through the attic, then the drywall ceiling, finally landing on someone’s bed which crashed to the floor.

Marc looked up as he heard a thud on the roof then just about jumped out of his skin as the ceiling caved in.

Sam struggled to his hooves, shook drywall dust and cobwebs off, looked around and was relieved to find he finally landed.

It was a teenager’s room best he could tell. Music band posters were tacked on the walls. A small television, some kind of grayish white box with some wires running out of it and some plastic rectangles that he couldn’t identify lay next to it. Sam’s pack was on the floor, but his rifle pack was nowhere to be seen. He looked up and relief washed over him as he noticed the rifle pack was hanging from the broken ceiling.

His relief was short-lived as Sam heard a deep growl and he looked to the source of the threatening sound. A teenage Gray Fox, naked from the waist down and still holding his dripping knot, stared at Sam. Sam raised a hand “Ah mhmmm sasa… saSorry about the ceiling ma my plane broke down.” The teenager’s knot melted and his cock flagged.

Marc bared his teeth and yelled “You are one of them!” He grabbed a baseball bat from the corner and swung. Sam jumped back and saved himself from having at least several ribs broken, Sam held out both hands. “ naaa na NO STOP!”

The teenager swung again, this time high. Sam had to drop almost flat to keep it from taking a blow to the side of the head. Sam jumped forward inside the canines reach and snatched the bat away, tossing it to the other side of the room. “SAS SA STOP DA DA DAMIT I’M NOT HHERE FOR YOU!”

Marc growled and bared his teeth again. “NO YOU JUST WANT US TO STARVE TO DEATH!” Marc grabbed a knife off the dresser and lunged at Sam. Sam saw the charge, turned sideways and gave the teen fox a shove as he went past. Marc smacked into the far wall and bounced off. An AC/DC poster fell to the floor.

Sam held out his hands again “Na no I da da DON’T want to be eaten, NWWW NOW STOP IT, I … I’ll be on my way, I ddon’t want to hurt you…. Pa pa please… Please?” Sam tried to reach for the soft case holding his rifle when the young canine charged and plunged the knife into Sam’s chest. “YOU ARE FOOD, NOT PEOPLE YOU DUMB DEER AND YOU TALK WEIRD!”

The short blade stopped as it hit the ammo pouches Sam had slung bandelier style and stopped. Sam gritted his teeth and grabbed the teenager in a fit of rage. he turned the young Fox to face away from him grabbed the opponent’s chest with one powerful hoofed hand and the head with the other and twisted in opposite directions, like trying to open a large jar of pickles.

The young Fox’s neck popped and crackled than shattered as Sam nearly turned his head back around to face him. Marc’s whole body spasmed as his spinal cord was shredded, his legs kicked, his arms flailed. Before the spasms quickly faded away, just a slight wet gurgling sound escaped from the youngster’s open maw. The foul smell of fox piss and shit assaulted Sam’s senses as he tossed the dead body on the broken bed. Its head hung at a grotesque angle and the lifeless body sighed its last breath.

Sam sighed and stared at the floor for several long moments. He hadn’t come here to kill some dumb teen in his own bedroom even if the dog had tried to kill him first. Sam punched the wall, his hand went straight through the cheap wood paneling and he swore again. “ FA Fa FUCK…the Colonel is zzz isn’t going to like that one bit.”

Sam gathered his wits and jumped and grabbed his rifle bag, unzipped the pack and inspected his sniper rifle. It appeared undamaged. He quickly loaded the rifle, grabbed his pack and ran down the stairs and out the back door of the house.

His fellow fighters needed his cover fire and he needed to find where his wayward son Murphy had gone off to…


To be continued in part 2 “ Come hell or high water”

Art done by my very good friend https://inkbunny.net/bladapacha

As always I really enjoy hearing from anyone and everyone who enjoys the art or story and hey even if you hate it leave a comment too :-)

If anyone is interested in listening to the music featured in this story the two songs are linked below.

Black Betty: https://youtu.be/4cn_woPvjQI?si=UiD0QWgrbutSSubY

Final “ Les Miserables” : https://youtu.be/97vByxVtqpg?si=-kDCBKPHPuc1tqYL