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Against the odds, Casey attempts to turn the tables on the vixen's abductors.

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Refuge

by TypicalFloof

Chapter 4: Retribution

Chapter Theme: Dismember - I Saw Them Die

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zk85NdyvUM4

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Casey lay prone in the dirt, peering through his binoculars. Evidently, his unseen assailants hadn't taken the time to rifle through his rucksack. Their trail led him to the edge of a clearing where he surveyed their small camp.

So far, Casey had spotted three anthros: a wolf, a bobcat, and a hulking bull. They had all gone into the large tent occupying one side of the camp. A smaller tent sat across from the larger one, separated by a lazily burning fire. Since there were only two tents, he guessed that the three anthros were the only ones there. Casey didn't want to rush in blindly and be surprised by an unseen attacker again, but he knew the foxgirl didn't have much time. If she wasn't dead already.

The bull strode out of the tent some time ago and was bent over the fire. Even at this distance, the MechWarrior could smell the aroma of cooking meats. His stomach growled. He hadn't eaten in hours. Slowly, Casey unwrapped a nutrition pill and swallowed. He screwed up his face at the awful taste. At least it would keep his stomach from giving his position away.

Looking through the binoculars again, Casey gritted his teeth as he imagined what was going on inside the tent. I'm sorry! It's all my fault!

Casey took a deep breath. He shoved those emotions in a box, locking them deep inside himself. There would be plenty of time for self-recrimination later. Casey swiveled his gaze and frowned as he spotted a horse hitched to a post about 50 yards away from the camp. That's going to be a problem.

Casey had crept as close as he dared on foot. The forest kept him out of view, but the trees ended a few dozen yards in front of him, leaving about one hundred yards of open field between him and the camp. Casey would have to belly crawl all the way there. Fortunately, he was downwind of the camp. If the anthros were anything like feral animals, that should prevent his distinctive scent from being detected. The anthros' and the horse's sharp hearing would be another matter, however.

A glint next to the rightmost tent caught his eye. His brow furrowed as he made out the shape of his rifle leaning against a wooden crate. He had to reach it! Casey set the binoculars aside and studied the terrain as he sought the best path.

Deciding on a route, ever so slowly, Casey fished in the rucksack and grabbed his trauma kit. Along with the girl's knife, that was the only thing he stowed on his belt. Unlike the pouch of medical supplies he'd looted from the convoy, the trauma kit was compact enough that it wouldn't jangle and make noise. Casey reached into the pack again and produced a small tin of boot polish.

The MechWarriors of Baker Company roundly complained at Colonel Roget's enforcement of uniform standards, including making them keep their boots polished. Long ago, the colonel had served in the Tenth Marik Militia before being honorably discharged and starting his own mercenary company. Old habits died hard, which is why he insisted on the dress code. Casey was grateful for it now.

Unscrewing the lid, he daubed the dark polish on his face and neck, smearing it all over his pale skin. Using the last vestiges of sunlight, Casey examined his appearance in the mirrored finish of the tin. He grunted in satisfaction and stuffed it back into his pack.

Casey flinched as he heard a sudden clangor. It sounded like someone was banging on a pot. He brought the binoculars to his face. What the hell?

The bull was banging a spoon on a frying pan held high above his head. He was gyrating and moving his head back and forth. Was he dancing? Casey realized this was the break he'd been looking for. If he could hear the racket, imagine how loud it would be in the camp!

Casey pushed himself up and hurried in a low crouch. Reaching the last few trees, he lowered to the ground and began crawling. His upper half had barely cleared the last tree when the bull abruptly stopped banging the pan. Casey froze. Had he been spotted?

Casey squinted in the darkness, but couldn't make out much in the soft moonlight. Two silhouettes walked from left to right and seated themselves between Casey and the fire. Resolutely, he resumed his crawl.

***

“Looks like you couldn't handle the bitch after all."

Jerome scowled and massaged his muzzle. “She got lucky! But she's not goin' anywhere."

Settled on a log, Travis risked a complaint. “Why'd you have to have dinner now," he groused. “I was this close to—"

His eyes bulged as Rodney's paw shot out and grabbed the bobcat's crotch. Travis gasped as his testicles were caught in the bull's firm grip. Rodney bent down. The bobcat went rigid as the bull's jovial expression loomed before him. Jerome gaped at the display, but remained silent for fear of incurring Rodney's ire.

“Because," Rodney said sweetly, “I've been slaving over this hot fire for ages!" Travis squeaked as Rodney contracted his fingers. The bull's smile widened. “Whassa matter, is the poor widdle kitten gonna get blue balls?" With one last squeeze, Rodney let go. Travis's paw shot over his crotch protectively.

“What're you starin' at," he spat at Jerome, who was unsuccessfully trying to stifle a laugh. “Shuddup and gimme a beer!"

Jerome was sure his coughing fit fooled exactly no one as he twisted behind him and reached into a cooler. Getting himself under control, he handed Travis a bottle.

The bobcat popped off the cap with a claw and took a few slugs.

“Ahhhh," he sighed, wiping his muzzle with the back of a paw.

“Breaking in a new bitch is hard work, eh?" Jerome quipped. He speared a thin slice of meat from the grate over the fire and plopped it on his plate. Travis quickly followed suit, and the din of noisy munching and lip smacking soon filled the camp.

Jerome belched appreciatively after he was finished. Rodney was a pretty good cook, he had to admit. He downed the last of his beer and stood, straightening slowly. Jerome tottered and waved his arms as he regained his balance.

“I had six, and I'm barely buzzed. You only had four," Rodney boomed.

“Yeah, well, you're a lot bigger than me!" Jerome retorted.

Rodney parted his legs and glanced down before shooting the wolf a smug grin. Travis guffawed and bent over, wheezing.

“Oh for fuck's—" Jerome threw up his hands and muttered. He glared at the other two, who were howling with laughter. “I'm goin' to take a piss! You'd better not start without me!" he shouted over the commotion.

The wolf shook his head as he staggered away from the fire. Maybe I did have a little too much, Jerome thought as he wavered slightly.

Jerome stopped once he'd gone far enough. Inhaling, he closed his eyes as the cool night breeze tousled his fur. His head bubbled with a pleasant buoyant feeling.

A soft snort interrupted his reverie. He glared at the horse to his left. Jerome unfastened his pants and sighed as his stream spattered the earth.

The horse snorted more loudly this time. Jerome saw that its head was perked up.

“Shut up you old bag!"

Jerome returned his attention to the task at hand and shivered as his bladder finally emptied. Stroking himself, he was pleased to see his member easily stand to attention despite the alcohol. Tonight is gonna be fun!

An ear-splitting report nearly caused Jerome to jump out of his fur. Whirling, he scanned the camp for the source of the noise. Rodney was halfway to his feet, gesticulating wildly at the larger tent, but Jerome couldn't hear what he was saying since a high-pitched ringing had deafened him. Realizing he was still grasping his dick, Jerome hastily buttoned his pants. His eyes narrowed as he spied Travis spill out of the tent, convulsing hysterically. A smoking pistol was clutched in his fist.

Anger surged through Jerome. Had Travis actually shot the broad? That son of a bitch! Jerome fumed. He had seen her first! He started to move forward, but he received his third unwelcome surprise of the night.

***

Casey's heart stopped as the horse snorted; he had frozen in place ever since the wolf stumbled outside the camp. The stream of wolf piss was landing much too close to Casey for his liking. He nearly gagged on its acrid tang.

The horse snorted again and lifted its head. Shit! It definitely knew something was wrong!

“Shut up you old bag!" Casey heard the wolf growl. The prone MechWarrior let out a shaky breath. The introduction of alcohol into the mix was an unexpected blessing. But three-to-one odds weren't favorable, especially considering he was practically unarmed. His stolen rifle lay alluringly close.

Casey cocked his head. He thought he'd heard an intake of breath from the wolf. There it was again. Was he really…

A slow smile spread over his face. This was too good! He prepared to spring to his feet.

A thunderous report nearly gave Casey a heart attack. His ears rang as his eyes searched frantically. Who had fired the shot? Had he been seen?

Casey squinted and could barely make out the large tent on the left. Dimly, he saw a light-colored form stumble out of it. No! The girl!

The bull had risen to his feet and was waving his arms enthusiastically at the tent. Casey couldn't hear what he was saying but it didn't matter. The wolf now had his back to Casey.

Carefully, Casey pushed himself up into a crouch. He snuck behind the wolf, who looked like he was zipping his fly. Casey flung his arm around the anthro's neck and pinned his head with the other arm. He tried to buck him off, but Casey forced his head backwards. Casey snarled as he squeezed his shoulder blades together. The wolf batted at his arm, but then went limp in his grasp, twitching. Casey held the position for several seconds to be sure, then dragged the unconscious anthro into a pool of shadow behind the smaller tent on the right.

Inching forward, Casey retrieved his rifle and circled around the small tent. He was just in time to see the light-furred figure stagger back into the tent. The bobcat had already killed the vixen, but now he was going to defile her corpse? Casey was incensed.

First he needed to take care of the massive bull. He looked impossibly large now that Casey had gotten close. Casey spent his crawl mulling over how to deal with the enormous bovine, but the solution was now obvious. He brought his rifle up and pivoted to the brute, who was still standing by the fire. Casey could hear him now, but all he could make out was inarticulate yelling.

Hands shaking with rage, Casey wrapped the sling around his arm and sighted on the bull's trunklike neck. His weak left arm caused the sight picture to sway. Aiming carefully, Casey gently squeezed the trigger. The rifle thumped comfortingly into his shoulder as the bull staggered. The rifle recoiled in a smooth tattoo as Casey fired several quick shots into his torso, and the bull went down hard.

Casey crept closer to the large tent, skirting the camp's edge. His hearing was shot, but the bobcat's would be too. He wondered if the anthro would investigate, or if he'd cower in the tent. C'mon out you bastard!

Casey crouched beside the tent, out of view should the bobcat emerge. He couldn't see inside but he knew the bobcat was still in there. Gripping his rifle, Casey was finally rewarded with the sight of the bobcat's frightened face poking out of the tent flaps. His lips moved, but the only thing Casey heard was the piercing ringing in his ears.

The bobcat slowly brushed the canvas aside and took a few hesitant steps toward the campfire. He squinted.

Casey waited a beat, watching the bobcat wildly swing his pistol in front of him. He exploded toward the anthro. The bobcat never saw him coming. Casey smashed the butt of his rifle against the bobcat's head, and he crumpled to the ground. The MechWarrior reclaimed his handgun, slung his rifle, and dragged the anthro toward the fire, grunting.

After a brief search, Casey found a stout coil of rope which he used to securely tie the bobcat. Warily, he approached the still form of the bull. Rifle trained on his chest, Casey waited a few moments before kicking his ribs. He let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding when the bull remained still. Casey peered down at the bull's glassy eyes and thick tongue that flopped out of the side of his snout.

The bull was dead, but Casey wasn't about to take chances. He'd heard stories over the years of vanquished enemies unexpectedly returning to life. Whether on drugs, or adrenaline, Casey knew the human body could do strange things under extreme circumstances. Crouching over the bovine, Casey unsheathed his knife and slashed through the soft tissue of his neck. Blood rushed from the cut, but the bull didn't even twitch. Casey breathed a sigh of relief, cleaned his blade, and stuck it back into his belt.

That left the wolf. Casey trudged to where he had dragged him and heaved him beside the bobcat. Binding him as well, Casey stood over the pair. His eyes stung as he stared down at them.

The wolf was beginning to stir. Casey saw him struggle, weakly at first, but his efforts became more frantic as his eyes shot open. Giving up, the wolf settled back, panting. His panicked amber eyes flicked over Casey's face.

The bobcat beside him was also moving. He opened his eyes with a snarl and bared his fangs at Casey. He tried to yell, but Casey had gagged both of the anthros. The bobcat narrowed his eyes and glared at Casey. He knelt in front of them, fighting to control his breathing.

Casey turned to the bobcat and hiked a leg over his chest. Gripping the bobcat's torso with his legs, Casey lowered his weight onto the anthro's stomach. Still able to balance himself, Casey was sure the position was pretty uncomfortable for him. He yanked the gag out of his mouth, and the bobcat gulped like a fish.

“What… what…" he sputtered. Casey eased off just a hair, and the bobcat took a shuddering breath. He fixed Casey with a venomous stare before Casey's hand shot out and smacked him across the face.

“Agh!"

Casey grabbed the bobcat's hair and roughly yanked his head back around.

Eyes boring into the anthro's, Casey said, “I'm going to ask a few questions, cat. If I don't like your answer, if I get the slightest suspicion you're lying…" Casey trailed off. He saw that the bobcat's eyes were transfixed on the knife brandished in his hand. He swallowed and nodded.

The wolf whimpered next to them.

“Quiet!" Casey snapped. The wolf fell silent. “I haven't forgotten about you, princess. Don't you worry.

“Okay, cat," Casey said. “First question: Is it just you three here? Or are there more of you assholes?"

“Jus'- just us th-three!" the bobcat stammered.

Casey grinned balefully. “Well, two, now that your friend the bull is nothing but a pile of ground beef."

The bobcat craned his neck. His eyes bulged at the enormous form of the bull lying beside the campfire.

“Second question," Casey said, applying more of his weight. The bobcat's eyes shot back toward the man straddling him. “Why?" he asked. Casey's eyes blazed as they drilled into the anthro's.

“Wh-why?" The bobcat licked his lips. “Why what?"

Casey exploded. He drove his knife into the earth beside the anthro's head. The bobcat squeezed his eyes shut before tentatively reopening them. “You were going to fuck her corpse after you killed her, you sick fuck!"

Casey leaned in close and shook with barely-suppressed rage. The anthro's Adam's apple bobbed.

“I-I-I—" the bobcat stuttered before shooting a furtive glance at the wolf. Casey's chest heaved. He was on the verge of grabbing his knife and plunging it into the loathsome creature's chest but stopped at the furious noises emanating from the wolf. Casey tugged the gag out of the wriggling anthro's mouth.

“Got something to say, wolf," Casey growled.

“You shot the bitch, Travis!"

“Shut up, Jerome!" the bobcat hissed.

Casey sat back at the outburst.

“I saw her first, you bastard! I didn't even get to fuck 'er before you fucking shot her!"

“I didn't shoot her, idiot! I was j-jus' tryin' ta scare her is all! I don't know, it was the fucking alcohol, okay!"

Casey's blood boiled. He'd heard enough. Getting up off the bobcat, he yanked the knife free and leaned over Jerome. He grabbed the wolf's hair and forced his head back.

“What're you—" the wolf choked, gaping at the knife. Casey lowered it to his neck and pressed the blade into his fur. Panicked, the wolf's amber eyes widened in terror, but all Casey could see was the foxgirl's azure pair staring back at him. Feeling like someone else's hand was in control, Casey dragged the edge across his neck in a swift motion. He shoved the wolf's shoulder to push him onto his side as arterial blood geysered out of the anthro's severed throat. Horrible gurgling noises emanated from the wolf as he twitched and shuddered.

Once the wolf had fallen still, Casey turned and again sat astride the cat. He was careful to avoid the growing stain on the bobcat's crotch.

“This is better than you deserve," Casey spat. The knife dripped with blood as he prepared to strike. Travis's head reared back in a bark of laughter.

“What's so funny," Casey growled.

Travis flashed his teeth. “I was real gentle with her," he purred from the back of his throat. “I went in real slow like, and mmmm…" The bobcat trailed off in a sensual moan. “She was so tight!" He moaned again and rolled his eyes before holding Casey's gaze. “The bitch bled for me, too," he snickered.

Travis's pupils narrowed. He jerked wildly.

Casey was too slow. He bellowed as the bobcat sunk his teeth into the flesh of his arm. Blood dripped from his fangs as the bobcat hung on for dear life. Casey roared and plunged the knife into the anthro's chest. The bobcat convulsed as he stabbed again and again. He finally released Casey's arm, writhing in his bonds.

Tears of rage and pain blinded Casey. Even after the anthro had ceased moving, the knife flashed over and over. Casey howled with animalistic fury as the bobcat's blood spurted everywhere. Getting a hold of himself at last, Casey threw himself away from the corpse, knife still clutched in his white-knuckled fist.

Casey's stomach roiled, and he puked uncontrollably. Chest heaving, Casey scooted away from the puddle of vomit and leaned against a log. He spat and closed his eyes for a second. The anthro's needlelike teeth had made a mess of his upper left arm. His head swam, and he almost passed out. Casey shook as he struggled to free his trauma kit from his belt. He moaned as he cleaned and bandaged the deep wounds. His arm was on fire, and worse still, he could barely move it.

Casey's hands trembled as his adrenaline rush tapered off. He pressed a fist to his forehead and couldn't stop the wracking sobs that escaped him. He had avenged the girl's rape and death, but what good did it do? He had been too late to save her. Casey's breath hitched, tears coursing down his face.

Gradually, Casey's weeping subsided. He wiped his face with a sleeve, then staggered to his feet. Finding a bucket of water, Casey scrubbed the blood and grease from himself as best he could. He saw a haunted man stare back at him in a reflection lit by pale moonlight.

Casey turned and plodded toward the tent with sagging shoulders. His arm burned and sent pulsing throbs from the injured area. Every fiber of his being resisted, but Casey gamely trudged on. Hesitating as he reached the tent flaps, he suppressed the gruesome images that flashed before his eyes with difficulty.

Casey closed his eyes and sniffled. He didn't even know her name, but he would see to it that the girl got a proper burial. Bracing himself, Casey stepped through the opening. His heart broke as his eyes adjusted to the dim light.

The girl's body was laying at the back of the tent, twisted around the vertical support pole. It was thick in diameter, much thicker than necessary to hold the tent up. He fought back bile as he saw the stake holding her ankles in place. Fresh anger burned as Casey took in the terrible sight.

The anthros had to have done this to other women before. The tent stake and stout pole were signs that they had put some forethought into the setup. It made Casey sick.

He knelt down at the fox's still form. Sighing, he carefully sliced the bonds at her ankles and then at her wrists. He decided to remove the body's gag even though she couldn't say anything. It just seemed out of place.

“I'm sorry," he whispered as his knife severed the fabric. The girl's eyes shot open.

“Yaaah!" he recoiled, landing on his butt. He gaped at the trembling vixen.

“Casey?" she breathed. He nodded, unable to speak. She was alive! But the thought of the three scumbags forcing themselves on her tempered his elation. Shakily, the girl struggled to sit up.

“How… I heard—" Casey took a shuddering breath. “I heard the shot. I thought they killed you!" He stared at her face in amazement.

She shook her head and rubbed her raw wrists. Slowly, she curled her legs and tail beneath her.

“The bobcat. He… he came in here waving a gun at me." The girl swallowed and looked at her feet. “I don't know why, but he fired into the ground and just left. I was so scared! I must have blacked out." She met Casey's gaze. “Then you came," she said, barely above a whisper.

Casey recovered from his shock and got to his feet. He grimaced, wondering if the fox could move after her trauma. “Can you walk?" he asked gently.

“I think so."

Casey extended a hand and pulled the girl to her feet. She stumbled and leaned against Casey for support. Regaining her balance, she pulled away and gasped.

“You're hurt!" she said, pointing to Casey's arm. He looked down and winced. Blood had seeped through the bandages covering his bite wound. He needed to address that before he lost too much blood. But here was not the place to do it.

Casey guided the girl out of the tent. He tried to shield her from the carnage around the fire, but he felt her stiffen as she caught glimpses. The guttering fire cast enough light to illuminate her face.

“Casey?" she whimpered.

Visible through the fleece-colored fur that framed her muzzle, a dark blotch ran underneath her left eye and down the side of her cheek. Pinpricks swept up Casey's spine at the sight of swollen, discolored skin.

“It's okay," he said, steering her past. “They won't hurt you anymore."

He bent, grabbing his rifle, and led the girl toward the hitched horse. It lifted its head and swiveled its ears toward them, tail flicking.

The fox steadied. She put a hand to the horse's neck and patted softly. The horse sighed, and its ears dropped to a neutral position.

Draping the rifle across his back, Casey turned to her and asked, “Can you ride?" She nodded.

“Help me," he said, motioning to the saddle hanging close by. The pair struggled at first but eventually secured the saddle around the horse. The beast shifted and shook its mane.

The girl put her foot in the stirrup and hauled herself on the horse's back. Casey unhitched the reins and jammed his foot into the stirrup. Feeling dizzy, he clung to the horn of the saddle. The vixen reached down, and Casey gladly accepted her help. He swung up and settled behind her. Sitting astride the mare, Casey was a little uncertain. He had never ridden a horse before.

“We need to go that way," he said, pointing to the trees where his pack was stashed.

The fox pressed her heels to the horse's flank, and the mare clopped in the right direction. Stopping at the treeline, Casey dismounted and almost fell over. Righting himself, he retrieved his rucksack and climbed back onto the horse, again with the girl's help.

“Let's get out of here," he groaned. The fox maneuvered the horse, and they started off, wandering aimlessly. Any destination was fine, as long as it took them far away from the cursed camp.

Casey must have passed out, because the next thing he knew, they had stopped in front of a towering pine tree. The fox was standing in front of the horse tying its reins around the trunk. He looked up and squinted. The mouth of a cave yawned a few yards away. Casey grunted in approval and carefully freed his foot from the stirrup. Panting, he gripped the saddlehorn and slid off the horse. His knees buckled as he hit the ground. With great effort, he pulled himself upright.

Hearing the commotion, the girl rushed to his side. “Lean on me," she said, pulling Casey's right arm around her shoulders. He sagged, trying not to put too much weight on her, but he could barely stand. The pair trudged into the cave. Casey couldn't see anything in the thick blackness, so he had to rely on the girl's night vision.

They walked several paces deeper before the girl stopped and nudged Casey's hip. “Sit down," she said. Casey gratefully sank to the floor and deposited his pack and rifle, wincing at his throbbing arm. He leaned back, millimeter by millimeter, until his back contacted a hard surface. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall.

Casey heard the girl rifling through his pack, and a sudden flash caused him to squeeze his eyes shut tighter. All he wanted to do was collapse and sleep for at least a week. He flinched as he felt the bandage around his bite wound being unwrapped. Fresh blood trickled down his arm. The girl had the medical device in her paw and was waving it above his bicep.

“Why isn't it working?" she demanded. The screen flashed red in her unsteady paws. Casey put a hand over the screen and gently pushed the device away.

“Gauze," he said tiredly.

“What?" she whispered.

“Gauze," Casey repeated more forcefully. He jerked the medkit from the rucksack and shakily held it out to the girl.

Her brow knit in confusion, but she took the pouch anyway. Casey couldn't suppress a groan as she splashed stinging antiseptic fluid over the wound. Carefully, she pressed a few gauze pads to Casey's skin and wrapped a bandage around his arm. He cringed as she rotated the limb to inspect his older knife wound. Fortunately, that one had not torn open again. Casey retracted his arm and cradled it on his lap.

“Thanks," he said.

The girl's blue eyes met his. “I don't understand!" she protested. “Why didn't it work?"

Casey gathered his breath. “You… can't use it on me now," he said. It was a struggle to lean his head forward. “I told you; it's a prototype, remember?"

The girl nodded.

“It scans someone's DNA and uses the gel to repair the damaged tissue. But it's limited. Once someone's DNA is loaded into its memory, and once the gel has been used for the first time, it can't be used on anyone else."

Casey saw understanding dawn in the fox's eyes. She touched her side, trembling.

“But you… used it on me? Why?" she whispered.

Casey leaned his head back against the wall and stared at the cave's ceiling. He didn't answer for a long time. Finally, he looked at the fox's face.

“It's complicated," he replied in an undertone.

“I have to know!"

“I'll tell you tomorrow, okay? I can barely… keep my eyes open."

Casey reached out and dug into his pack. Feeling a small container, he popped open the lid. He was about to pour out a caffeine tablet when a fuzzy paw closed over his hand.

“What are you doing?" the fox questioned.

“Need to keep watch," Casey said, straining to sit more upright. He was not going to allow anyone else to catch him unawares!

The girl took the container from his hand and pressed her paw to his chest, forcing him backwards. “No," she said. “You're going to sleep." She grabbed the bedroll and spread it on the ground next to Casey.

Casey started to protest but stopped as the girl resolutely picked up the rifle. He was too tired to argue.

“Get a fresh magazine," he said, pointing to the rucksack's outside pocket. Metallic scraping greeted his ears as he flopped down atop the bedding. He sighed as he shifted onto his right side. Casey heard the fox stand and take a step away from him.

“Hey," he said, propping himself up on an elbow. She turned, flicking her tail. “What's your name?"

A small smile creased her face. “Nora," she said, before turning away.

Casey lay back down. “Nora," he murmured. Weariness overtook him, and he fell asleep in minutes.