Fox on the Run

Fox on the Run blared from Russell’s alarm. Groggily, he rolled over. Moaned. Slammed his fist on the clock. An empty beer bottle clattered to the floor. He sat up. Rubbed his temples to ease a throbbing headache that would soon take hold if he didn’t numb it with medication. Another bottle stood within reach. It was half full. Russell took a swig of its contents.

Hair of the Dog.

He swung his bare legs off the bed. Glimpsed the clock — 8:01 AM.

“Damn it,” he cursed as he stumbled towards the bathroom, hoping a cold shower would help shake his pounding hangover. He turned on the faucet and splashed cold water over his face, trying to ignore the acrid taste of bile that filled his mouth. His stomach rebelled violently and with a guttural retch, he stumbled towards the basin and heaved the contents of his stomach into the sink.

He shuddered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and leaned heavily against the vanity.

Once the wave of nausea passed, Russell barely had time to dress before dashing out of his apartment and into the busy city streets. The thought of his interview at Metronex Enterprises in Elysium Heights left him feeling queasy. It wasn't just about acing the interview or landing the job. It was about being able to keep a roof over his head and make his life easier. He quickened his pace, determined not to be late. But just as he rounded a corner, lost in his thoughts, he collided with a well-dressed man.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” the man snapped, his voice tinged with irritation. 

Russell's heart skipped a beat as he stumbled backward onto the sidewalk, hitting the ground hard. The world seemed to blur around him as he struggled to regain his bearings. His pulse pounding in his ears.

As his vision restored, the man began to shape-shift before Russell’s eyes, into a sleek black panther. 

“Are you alright?” the panther asked, concern in his voice. “You took quite a tumble there.”

The hairs on the back of Russell's neck stood on end as a chill raced down his spine, his breath catching in his throat at the sight before him. 

His head thumped rhythmically, as his dulled mind tried to process the wild animal before him. The panther extended a paw to Russell. He hesitated and blinked in disbelief, wondering if his hangover-addled mind was playing tricks on him. But the panther’s stern gaze left no room for doubt, and Russell froze in place, his heart hammering in his chest.

“I... I think I’ll be alright,” he mumbled, pushing himself into a sitting position.

The morning sun shone brightly, casting a blinding glare behind the feline as Russell squinted at the panther, now crouching low over him. His head swam with dizziness and nausea. His stomach lurched. He gagged. Shielded his eyes with a trembling hand, trying to regain his composure.

The panther’s intense gaze remained on him. It wasn’t a man.

“I have to get going. I’m late for an important business meeting. Are you sure you’re alright?” the panther growled quietly.

“Yeah, yeah. All good, thanks,” Russell said, slowly lifting his body weight to standing. 

He watched the panther disappear down the street, it’s movement agile and precise. Russell checked his watch. The glass face had shattered, making the digits barely legible under its fractured surface. Despite the damage, he could just make out the faint outlines of the hands if he twisted his wrist slightly.

What the hell is going on? Am I losing my mind? Russell hurried down the street and around the corner towards the railway station, trying to rationalize what had just happened. How can a man morph into a panther? He shook his head in disbelief. I’ve never seen nothing like it.

The weathered bricks of the train station came into view. Faded and torn posters littered the walls barely legible against the rough surface, highlighting past events, as streams of commuters swarmed like ants into and out the huge glass doors. 

As Russell pushed through the crowd.

"Attention passengers, the next train departing from platform three is the 8:45 express service to Elysium Heights. All aboard. Final boarding call for the express service to Elysium Heights. Doors will be closing shortly. Thank you for choosing Metrorail. Have a pleasant journey."

Russell had entered the train station at platform one. Platform three was accessible via the pedestrian bridge across the tracks. He veered toward the signage and spotted the elevated bridge that took travellers across the track.

Human-sized bumble bees darted from one platform to the next, some gliding gracefully while others were more erratic, not sure of where they should be. Several gazelles, their movements quick and purposeful, hurried to catch their morning trains and lions with their cubs lounged on benches or against walls, patiently waiting for their connecting trains.

Russell tried to ignore them all. He broke into a jog. The throng of animal passengers swelled, causing his pace to slow to a rhythmic shuffle the closer he came to the pedestrian bridge. 

“Doors closing! Next stop, Elysium Heights! Thank you for traveling with Metrorail. We hope you have a pleasant journey!” 

Finally, he exited the pedestrian bridge and took the staircase two at a time, pushing past commuters, to platform three. But he was too late.

The train pulled away from the station.

“Give me a break!” Russell clenched his fists in frustration. He watched the metal carriages leave, bound for Elysium Heights without him. 

A nearby schedule board flashed the departure time for the next train to Elysium Heights — 9.45 a.m. Russell let out an exasperated sigh.

He needed to find an alternate route. Vaguely, he recalled passing a taxi rank at the front of the station. He scanned the bustling station, searching for the exit that would lead him to the street outside.

Dodging past several laughing hyenas, Russell reached the station's main concourse and pushed open the heavy doors to step out into the bright morning sunlight. He scanned the street for a taxi rank.

Just beyond the station’s entrance, he saw one and legged it to join the line behind two avians engaged in a lively discussion about the latest celebrity scandal.

“Can you believe it? I saw the post on Facebook. Why have an affair when you’re married to someone like her?” exclaimed one bird in a bright blue blouse.

“She must be a real diva,” the other concluded.

Russell glimpsed their faces as they turned to watch a taxi approach.

The two chatty gossipers each had the face of a toucan, their voices taking on the braying sound of donkeys. Slightly bewildered, he chuckled to himself. I must be losing my mind. First, a panther executive, a zoo at the station and now talking toucans?

Beyond the taxi queue, a group of squirrels dressed in casual attire, deep in loud animated conversation about post-term parties, squealed and jittered.

The line for taxis ahead of Russell seemed to stretch on indefinitely. He couldn't afford to be late for his interview. This job meant everything to him — a chance for him to turn his life around.

I’m running out of time. He panicked. 

He had been struggling financially for some time now. His rent was already four weeks behind.

“You have until next week to get your act together or you can get out,” his landlord, Frank had yelled from behind the closed door of Russell’s apartment.

“I’m doing my best,” Russell had slurred back, not game enough to open the door, fearing if Frank saw him wasted and the apartment looking like a pig's stye, he’d throw him out on the spot.

Minutes ticking away. Russell shifted anxiously from one foot to the other, then made a split-second decision. 

He sprinted past the line of waiting commuters towards Elysium Heights, weaving through a group of flamingos, their long, slender legs moving gracefully across a pedestrian walkway. The pounding of his feet on the pavement sent pangs of unease through his stomach. Yet, he pushed aside the nagging ache and focused on the path. Soon his muscles burned with exertion, his breath came in rasps and his stomach twisted with anticipation.

Up ahead, Wildebeests congested the road, their explosive snorts echoing through the streets, making his head pound. Their movements, slow and cumbersome, as they inched along the asphalt. Russell’s stomach pitched at the overpowering stench that hung in the air. There was no way he could get through the congested street. Beads of sweat formed on his brow as his throat tightened. He swallowed hard; his saliva glands flooded his mouth with pre-warning of an impending expulsion of vomit. He bent over and spewed onto the sidewalk.

After wiping his chin, he looked towards the heavens. 

If I can just nail this job interview, I promise I’ll change my ways. He muttered. I’ll start fresh, and I’ll work hard. Please, just help me.

Inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes, allowing the weight of his words to sink in. The stale smell of alcohol lingered in his nostrils. The memory of the night before. Binge drinking and squandering what little cash he had on fleeting pleasures instead of fulfilling his obligations to Frank. 

He opened his eyes. A group of monkeys swung into sight, moving from one rooftop to another.

“Yoo-hoo, tall, clumsy creature below!” they hooted. “Do you need a hand?”

Russell’s eyebrows shot up in bewilderment. And now they talk to me!

“Uh, thanks, but I think I’ll stick to solid ground,” he replied, unsure whether he had finally lost all his marbles and should just give up and go back home or take up the primates offer.

“Come on, don’t be shy! We’ll get you to your interview in no time,” one monkey said as he swooped closer, its eyes sparkling mischievously.

Russell hesitated, his eyebrows furrowing in indecision. 

“How do you know about my interview?” he asked.

“Let’s just say we have our connections,” a monkey responded as several of his companions screeched raising their arms above their heads excitedly. 

A sudden thought crossed Russell’s mind: What if this was all just a prank, a setup orchestrated by one of those reality television shows with hidden cameras and a laughing audience?

“Thanks, but... maybe another time,” he finally stammered, his voice betraying a hint of doubt. Russell turned away from the monkeys.

Several primates darted down from the rooftop, their nimble hands reaching out to grab Russell’s arms. Startled, he tried to pull away, but their grip was strong.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Russell yelled, his heart racing as the monkeys hoisted him up off the ground.

He was being carried by his limbs from rooftop to rooftop. His feet dangling precariously in mid-air. The city streets below were a dizzying expanse stretching out beneath him. With each leap, the vertigo-inducing heights sent his heart pounding and his stomach churning. He clung to the primates. His body swinging and swaying like a pendulum. 

“It really is a leap of faith, isn’t it?” Russell said. 

The monkeys chattered excitedly.

This job interview, I men. It’s my chance to turn things around, to prove to myself that I’m capable of more than what I’ve become,” he clarified.

The primates nimble arms reached out to pat Russell on the back in encouragement. Russell smiled.

“I’ve made plenty of mistakes,” Russell continued. “But I don’t want them to define me. I want this job, not just for the paycheck, but for the chance to start fresh, to build a future that I can be proud of.”

From his aerial vantage point, Russell could see street performers, flamboyant peacocks, spreading their vibrant plumage to attract attention. He felt the rush of wind against his skin as he swiftly moved from one rooftop to another, and soon, they arrived at the Metronex Enterprises building.

Russell wasted no time. He grabbed the closest monkey and shook his arm.

“Thank you for helping me.” 

A chorus of screeches responded, and with a quick glance at his watch, Russell sprinted across the rooftop towards the access door. 

He pushed open the heavy door and entered the building. Inside, he made his way to the elevator, while mentally rehearsing his responses. He recalled the promise he had made to himself. 

You’ve got this, Russ.

The elevator doors closed behind him. He sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves that threatened to overwhelm him.

In the lobby, the Metronex Enterprises building buzzed with activity. People in tailored suits past Russell, their footsteps echoing against the polished marble floors. He scanned the foyer, noting the absence of talking animals that had populated his journey through the city streets. Here everyone was human and spoke a language he understood.

The morning’s happenings played like a montage in his mind. The frantic rush to leave his apartment, bumping into the panther, battling the relentless waves of nausea, Toucans, zoo animals and the friendly primates — The entire city seemed to conspire against him, throwing one hurdle after another in his path. I made it. Russell smiled.

“Russell Olsen.”

Hearing his name snapped Russell out of his contemplation, and he quickly made his way toward a middle-aged man wearing a sharp black suit. Instant recognition flashed across Russell's face.

"You're the... panther, I mean, the man I bumped into on the street earlier this morning," Russell stammered as they both walked into his office and settled into chairs opposite one another. 

"Yes, I'm glad to see you're alright and on time for your interview," the executive replied, a hint of concern in his tone. “Let’s get underway then, shall we?”

As the interview progressed, Russell noticed a change within himself. 

I’m not sweating these questions like I thought I might.

After everything that had transpired to bring him to this moment, he knew that no matter what questions the businessman threw his way; he had already proven himself to be more than capable.

Thirty minutes later, Russel stepped out of the building. A cool breeze brushed against his face. In his hand he clutched a contract. An employment contract. He glanced skyward. The clouds drifted lazily above the cityscape.

“No more,” he whispered under his breath. “No more messy apartment, no more alcohol-fuelled nights, and no more fear of losing my home.”

He smiled.

“Thank you.”