Close Encounters...

Close Encounters of the Furred Kind
As told by Fox Tayle

January 19, 2006

I woke up on the morning of the 19th after having spent the night in my truck. I had found an empty carport in a neighborhood near the Doubletree Hotel and parked my El Camino inside it. I pulled out the blankets that my friend Diana, and Ashley the Motel 6 desk clerk, had given me, and slept under them in the bed of the truck. I awoke early in the morning, probably around 7 am. I rummaged through the cardboard box on the passenger seat for some breakfast. All I found were a Clif Bar and a banana. I ate the Clif Bar. After checking to make sure that no one was watching me, I drank some water from the garden hose in the front yard of the house.
After finishing my breakfast, I decided to set out for FurCon. Hopefully I could get there without being spotted by anyone who would report my discovery to the FBI. A man walking his dog turned the corner of the block and came toward me. Quickly I ducked inside the El Camino and closed the door. I stayed down low on the seat until he passed, then I returned to driving position and buckled my seat belt. I put the key in the ignition and turned it. With a short grinding sound, the El Camino started. That sound was new; I wondered if the truck was finally showing the effects of the hard life it had had under my ownership.
Slowly I backed out of the driveway and pulled out into the street. I put on my baseball cap the best I could. The man with the dog had stopped and the dog was inspecting a fire hydrant. If he saw me without some form of disguise, however pitiful it was, he might have freaked out and I would have been in trouble. If it kept me safe, looking stupid was worth it. I drove down the street, retracing my path back to the Doubletree. I strictly adhered to the speed limit. Had I known that I was being monitored on GPS from the time I left the carport, I wouldn't have bothered.
Cruising down the city street, I passed a black Ford Crown Victoria. I noticed the two dark-tinted red and blue lights installed in the grille. An undercover cop. Just what I needed. I don't think he actually saw me, but he probably had a description of the truck. How many yellow 1986 Chevy El Caminos can there possibly be? By now, the fact that I had an illegal license plate didn't help, either.
The cop turned on his lights. Great. Just great. I was probably being busted for expired registration tags. But for all I knew, the cop might have been able to identify me or the truck. I looked in my rearview mirror and saw that he was radioing in to headquarters. Forget the speed limit, I put my paw to the floor and took off. The cop followed. It was going to be another car chase. How many of those have I participated in? I've lost count. They are great tests of driver skill, but they become extremely tedious after a while. I wasn't in the mood for running today. The cop pulled up alongside me and motioned for me to stop. I gave him a little hand motion of my own and sped up. Unfortunately, that cop was the distraction that kept me from noticing a number of large black SUVs coming up from behind. It was only another quarter mile or so to the Doubletree. I couldn't let myself be caught.
My speedometer read 70 mph. It was a 40 zone. I passed a row of cars and then, coming to a large intersection clogged with morning traffic, swerved into the left-turn lane and went straight through the red light. Cross traffic was dense. I missed a passing garbage truck by only a few feet and a taxi cab by even less. I cleared the intersection just in time to see that I had passed the Doubletree Hotel. I pulled a hasty e-brake U-turn and burned out back toward the intersection. The FBI SUVs had been caught up in traffic and were waiting for me. The light turned green for my direction by the time I got there, so I didn't have to negotiate any more cross traffic. However, I did have to deal with those huge SUVs. My El Camino was not as fast as the trucks and the police Crown Vic, but it was more agile. I wove through a mass of swerving vehicles and skidded into the entrance of the Doubletree Hotel parking lot.
Parking lot traffic was heavy, too. Today was the first day of Further Confusion 2006, and cars were lined up to find parking spaces. I pulled out into the left lane of the entrance ramp and bypassed the whole mess. A shuttle bus pulled out in front of me and I swerved to the left. I bounced over the curb and crashed through some ornamental shrubs, landing on a patch of lawn. I could use this as a shortcut to get to the ballroom faster. I spun my wheels and carved deep ruts in the wet grass, but I was still making pretty good progress. Annoyingly, so were the big black SUVs. The curb and grass were no match for their four-wheel-drive and they were gaining on me. I saw pedestrians ahead of me. I honked my horn to warn people that I was coming, in case they didn't notice an orange fox in a yellow pickup truck followed by a convoy of SUVs and a police car. The cacophony of all those V-8s alone would have been warning enough. I passed a group of peds and noticed that a few of them looked kind of like me. Two members of the group were foxes and one was a wolf. Imagine that: animals and people getting along. Well, this animal and the people chasing me weren't getting along very nicely!
I reached the front doors of the hotel ballroom and came to a smoky, emergency-brake-assisted stop. I threw my door open and sprinted toward the ballroom doors. There was a line of creatures waiting to get in. I saw anthropomorphic dogs, cats, foxes, wolves, and many other animals mixed in with the humans. Why were they not being harassed like I was? I heard voices yelling at me as I ran to the door. "Hey Fuzz Face! the end of the line's back there!" Call me what you like, I will stop for pretty much nothing when my life's in danger. Getting back at someone for minor insults isn't worth risking death. I saw two security rent-a-cops running toward me from the building. I dove for the door and was tackled by one of the men. I kicked him in the groin and got back up. The other rent-a-cop grabbed me just as I reached the entrance. The door was open but there wasn't enough room to get through it with the line there. I made my own entrance. I threw the man off of my back, right through the plate glass window next to the door. I rolled through the falling glass shards and entered the building. People looked at me in shock. Oddly enough, none of the animals seemed to show much expression. Perhaps they had gone through this sort of thing before and weren't impressed?
I turned around and saw that the FBI agents had exited their vehicles and were now running at full speed toward me. Behind them a large white van screeched to a halt. I saw a small group of people in white lab coats get out of it and join the horde of black-suited agents. Lovely. Now the scientists were after me, too.
I kept running. I stopped when I saw a large group of foxes talking animatedly. "Help me!" I panted. "Guys, I need your help. You're foxes; have you ever been harassed by the FBI?"
"What?" they all said, practically in unison. "No...why do you ask?"
"Because I'm being chased right now," I said urgently. "I figured you might be able to help me."
"Sure," said one. "Go into the main hall. You'll blend right in there."
I quickly thanked them and ran for the main hall. Finally I reached it, where all the action would be. Inside would be my safe haven. The place where I'd be free. And I saw... row after row of tables. People and animals sat at the tables or stood nearby. Many were holding what looked like notebooks. I saw posters and booths and big glossy displays. What kind of place was this? I read the cover of a notebook carried by a cat as she walked by: Strathmore Sketch, 9x12". A sketchbook?! This was an art convention! My attention was diverted to the agents, who at that moment burst out into the room. I ducked behind a cloth-covered table, at which sat a jackal who looked down at me with an unnerving expression that looked an awful lot like a smile. However, the smile did not match the jackal's tone of voice. "Hey buddy, what's this look like? Hide and seek? I'm trying to sell my sketches here!"
I ignored him. I peeked my head over the top of the table. The agents had dispersed out into the crowd. I watched in horror as a fox was tackled by two agents. They must have mistaken him for me. The fox hit the floor with a thud and... his head fell off. I was shocked. It was a human in costume! No wonder their expressions never changed! I turned to the jackal and asked, "Is that a costume you're wearing?"
"Duh," he said, "You didn't really think I was a jackal, did you?"
"At first, yes," I admitted. "Is everyone here just in costume?"
"Dude, what rock have you been living under? This is a furry fandom convention. All the furry lifestylers are wearing costumes. You're wearing a costume yourself!"
"No, I'm not," I said.
"Whatever you want to think," the human in the jackal suit said, turning back to his sketches.
I shouldn't have wasted time talking. An agent happened to spot me and called to the others. The agents left the imposter fox cursing on the floor and gave chase after me. The scientists followed closely behind. They were carrying rifles. I could only guess what kind of ammo they were using, but I didn't want to have to find out. If I could blend into a crowd, they wouldn't be able to shoot me. Surely they wouldn't risk civilian casualties, furry or otherwise. I reached the end of the room and turned the corner. I briefly turned my head around to look back and collided with a girl dressed as a raccoon, who was carrying a stack of fliers. We both fell to the floor with a crash, and I slipped on the papers while getting back up. My hat had fallen off. I couldn't go back and grab it; I had already lost so much valuable time. At long last I was up and running again.
Where were the agents? I didn't see them anywhere now. The lab-coated scientists were nowhere to be seen, either. Suddenly, one scientist emerged from the crowd. I saw him only a moment too late. The scientist took aim with his rifle and fired as I tried to turn around. The shot hit me in the back. I fell into a display of posters and landed hard on the floor. I'm fast, but I can't outrun a bullet. Except that it wasn't a bullet. I initially felt a sharp pain, but not the same kind as when I had been shot the first time. This was more of a stinging sensation. I heard screams. People were running. I felt my back to see what hit me. The shot had not gone all the way in, and was sticking out far enough for me to pull it out. I looked at it and saw that it was a tranquilizer dart. Oh great. I looked up and saw the scientist standing over me, silhouetted against the bright lights in the ceiling. Then I started feeling woozy...the scientist went all blurry...and everything faded to black.