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“The Shadows Seize Vengeance” by Pascal Farful (read by Dirt Coyote)

September 6th 1992. A $1.2 Million donation to HIV/AIDS research has been stolen. Its thief is confident in his escape. He bargained wrong.

Tonight’s story is “"The Shadows Seize Vengeance"” by Pascal Farful, who has been writing furry stories  for well over 10 years and music for a further 8. Vicious rumours are that he may be about to appear in an anthology. But you can’t believe everything you hear… can you? You can find more of his stories on his FurAffinity and SoFurry pages.

Read by Dirt Coyote, from Twitter dot com.

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https://thevoice.dog/episode/the-shadows-seize-vengeance-by-pascal-farful

Transcript
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You’re listening to the Ghost of Dog

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on The Voice of Dog,

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and Tonight’s story is “"The

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Shadows Seize Vengeance"”

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by Pascal Farful,

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who has been writing furry stories for well over 10 years

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and music for a further 8.

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Vicious rumours are that he may be about to appear in an anthology.

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But you can’t believe everything you hear…

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can you? You can find more of his stories

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on his FurAffinity and SoFurry pages.

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Read for you by Dirt Coyote,

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from Twitter dot com.

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Fearful stories are not only meant to frighten. The ghost story is not only a warning, it can be a promise:

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that justice long-denied in this world,

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may yet be had in the next.

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And revenge is only justice deprived of other options.

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Whether that is fearful depends on whether one hungers and thirsts after

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justice, or whether one

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—such as Mr Robinson in our story tonight

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—has cause to fear it.

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Please enjoy “The Shadows Seize Vengeance” by Pascal Farful

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Zach had committed

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the perfect crime.

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He sat back on his sofa,

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watching the television,

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drink in hand. “This is Rick Wallace for NBC News.” The red fox on the screen began

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“Detectives are stumped today by the missing funds from the Tacoma Hospital Department for Sexual Health.”

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The news presenter on the television said.

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“The funds in question were a donation from SeaTac Bank LLC,

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in hopes of working on creating a cure to the

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HIV/AIDS virus…” The squirrel turned off the television and smirked over at the sack of the money.

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“Too bad, guess you should have kept it in your pants.”

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He sneered to himself.

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Zach got to his feet and locked the sack in his safe.

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He lit a cigarette,

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heading to the elevator and heading downstairs to the car park.

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The park was cold and dark.

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But the squirrel could see his Ferrari and casually strolled towards it.

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“Well, well, Zachary Robinson…

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we meet at last.” The squirrel stopped sharply and turned around.

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The room was empty,

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except for the black shadows.

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“Who’s there?” “Vengeance.”

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Zach looked past the pillar next to him.

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Nobody there. “W

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-what do you mean?”

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“I know what you did Zach.”

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The voice said. The squirrel nervously peered behind a nearby car.

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Nobody in sight. “Very funny… you can stop now.”

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Zach announced to the voice.

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“Why should I? You stole money that would save thousands of lives.

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And for that, you are going to

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pay.” The squirrel shifted, adopting a fighting stance.

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His eyes darted all around the room.

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Looking at the roof,

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then the floor, then turning to look behind him

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“Oh so you’re going to try and kill me is it?”

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“Kill you? No.” The voice said.

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“I’m not a murderer, Zach.

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We can’t all say the same, though, can we?”

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“I never!” The squirrel growled to the void.

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It had to be coming from somewhere.

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But everywhere he looked was plunged in shadow.

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“Don’t lie to me, Zachary.

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You know what your actions have done.

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You made your bed,

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now lie in it.” Realising he was in real trouble,

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the squirrel scrambled back to the car and opened the door,

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he turned the key and stared into the darkness again,

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firing the engine. He eased

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the car slowly towards the exit of the parking garage.

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Suddenly. A figure.

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Stood infront of one of the pillars.

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Bold, yellow eyes staring right into his.

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The squirrel screamed and swerved, narrowly missing the walls of the building.

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He could turn back to hit the figure.

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But he’d likely total the car if he hit the post,

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leaving him in it’s clutches.

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No, if the monster was going to follow him, Zach could choose the location for the next fight.

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He drove out onto the street and didn’t look back.

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He kept his foot to the floor

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out onto the freeway. -

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Outside Portland,

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Zach pulled the car to a halt at a local diner.

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The sun had just risen, the haze of a cold morning.

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He’d driven all through the night non-stop.

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As he drove he could have sworn he could have made out the figure in the blackness.

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At the crosswalks waiting to kill him

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if he stopped. On grass by the highway ready to strike if he broke down.

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Driving in the cars around him,

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prepared to punt him off the road

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at a moment's notice.

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The monster's words rang in his head.

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But he pushed them from his mind and sat back in the car.

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He had the money safe at home.

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He had won. If this thing laid a hand on him,

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his lawyer would see him off.

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Zach was tired. He ached.

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He climbed out of the car and staggered inside the diner.

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All he needed was some breakfast, then to find a hotel and sleep.

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“Morning.” The waiter said as Zach staggered to the counter.

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“Not seen you around these parts before.”

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“Yeah I’m… running behind schedule for a conference.” He said.

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The wolf seemed to accept it.

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“Alright, what can I get you?”

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“Uhh…” Zach stared up at the menu.

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The fatigue of the all-night drive made reading it harder than it needed to be.

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“Eggs over easy on toast

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with some hash browns.”

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He said, picking nearly at random. The wolf

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noted it down,

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then nodded. “You got it.”

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Zach lurched from the counter to one of the seats. He heard a click, then a buzz as the wolf switched on the television in the corner of the room,

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then disappeared into the back.

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“Good morning, this is Frank Wright for NBC news.

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The stolen money from the SeaTac Bank donation that had gone missing last night

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has been located.”

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Zach’s guts lurched.

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How? Impossible! They must have been mistaken.

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The money was locked in his safe.

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No. No it couldn’t be.

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He tried his best to gather himself up, looking back up at the cheetah on the screen.

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“The money has been returned to the Tacoma Department for Sexual Health,

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and a note was included with the money that states,

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quote “September 7th, 1992,

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heading for Portland.”

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That bag. That was the bag.

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The one he’d used. How?

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How could someone have gotten into his flat to get it?

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Known the combination to his safe?

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And how did they know where he was going?

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He wanted to be furious at such an invasion of his privacy,

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but he could only feel his guts churn in fear.

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The squirrel squirmed in his seat, trying to steady himself and losing.

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“Fried Egg on Toast with hash browns for Zach.”

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The squirrel nearly jumped,

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then stood up and stumbled to the counter.

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“Thanks.” He said, taking the plate that was offered and trying to scamper back to the table uninterrupted.

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He failed. “You alright?

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You look all messed up.”

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The wolf behind the counter asked.

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“I’m fine.” Zach lied.

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“Say, do you know what day it is?”

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The wolf blinked.

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“September 7th, ‘92”.

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The walls seemed to cave in.

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This was it. He was fucked. The squirrel tried to hurry down his breakfast without looking like he was hurrying it down.

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It was only a matter of time before the guy behind the counter would be able to identify him to law enforcement.

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If he wasn't already one himself.

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Everything could be a trap.

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Hell, he might even be the voice's owner.

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He did have yellow eyes…

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He paid the wolf, mumbled something incoherent, then staggered out to his car.

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He climbed inside and drove off, back north towards Seattle.

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By now, Zach was operating on minutes of sleep,

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if that. He was speeding and he was barely staying awake.

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He had a few close calls with plowing into oncoming traffic,

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but if he got away with it,

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it would all be fine.

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Sure, he didn’t have the cash anymore.

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But he could escape.

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Back into Tacoma in time for nightfall,

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Zach pulled over again,

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unable to keep driving any longer.

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He found a quiet parking lot outside a mall and tried to get some sleep.

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Knock, knock. Zach jolted awake.

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He glared out of the windows.

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The one next to him where he’d heard the knocking,

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nothing. The one on the other side,

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nothing to be seen.

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He couldn’t make out anything in the mirror either.

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Just more shadows.

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Must have just been a stick from a tree landing on the car, messing up the paintwork.

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He could have believed that, if there were any trees around.

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Zach needed to sleep,

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he was in no state to drive.

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His paw wrapped around the key in the ignition, but he decided against it.

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As he leaned back again, he stared forward towards the store infront of him.

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On the hood of the Ferrari sat a small box.

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Zach’s guts started to heave again.

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The squirrel slowly climbed out of the car and picked it up.

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He peeled off the tape holding the cardboard together and opened the box.

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The box seemed to be empty.

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Zach sighed and panted.

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It was going to be fine.

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At the bottom of it was a small leaflet.

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Probably just a box from a nearby shop someone had discarded.

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He picked up the leaflet.

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Wondering what the product might have been,

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he turned it over.

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“Nowhere to run, Zach.”

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The squirrel screamed, his cry echoing in the night.

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He convulsed in fear.

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His body tried to fire adrenalin, but was far too tired to do it.

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He stumbled on thin air, throwing the box across the carpark.

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He climbed into the car and went to leave,

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before realising he couldn’t just leave the evidence around. He climbed back out and scampered out to retrieve it.

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“Run away then, you cowardly little fuck!”

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Zach fell down onto all fours, looking around, desperately for the figure again.

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“Run like the pathetic, vile little runt you are! But I’ll

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always find you.

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I could turn you in right now.

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I could ruin that life of yours for good.

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For what you’ve done to my family!

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My loved ones!” The squirrel could see the figure blocking one of the streetlights.

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Tall, cloaked. Those bright amber eyes.

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Two spotlights of pure anger.

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As Zach stumbled around, unable to keep himself steady,

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it seemed like the figure was moving.

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Standing everywhere and nowhere at once.

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Vision blurred and smeared.

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He couldn’t tell if he was moving closer to the figure,

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or the figure was approaching him.

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“But I know you haven’t learnt your lesson yet.

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You don’t understand the evil,

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the heinous act you’ve committed.

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You just think it’s a game.

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That your actions have no consequences.”

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The voice then began to spit new words at him,

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in a language Zach didn’t understand.

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Were they incantations?

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Satanic spells? The squirrel scrambled across the wet tarmac back into his car,

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starting it and driving away again,

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cursing himself that he’d once again forgotten the box.

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He avoided his apartment, knowing it wasn’t safe from his hunter.

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Zach parked the car outside a bar,

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aiming for somewhere crowded he could blend in.

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Inside, he sat down and tried to breathe.

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“Good evening, welcome to NBC Nightly News with Rick Wallace.”

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The squirrel couldn’t bare to see that fox again.

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That harbinger of his doom.

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But he had to look.

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“We have an update today on the SeaTac Bank money case.

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I am here with Detective Rhys Jones, who is able to reveal the lead on the case.”

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Zach looked up to see the fox offer the microphone to a wolverine in a wheelchair.

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“Yes, we believe that the theft was committed by SeaTac Bank’s own CEO Zachary Robinson.

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He is currently at large and we are looking to locate him for questioning.”

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The squirrel could now definitely see double.

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He felt like he was having a heart attack.

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But he walked as best he could out of the bar and to his car.

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He turned the ignition.

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Nothing. Zach climbed out and lifted the engine cover.

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All the wires had been cut.

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Spark plug wires, battery connectors.

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The timing belt had been cut.

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Unfixable. “Fine.” He announced aloud, climbing back into the car and opening the glovebox.

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“But I won’t go down without a fight.”

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He called again,

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climbing out of his car for the last time,

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a handgun in his paw.

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Zach stumbled into a nearby alley,

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starting to walk into the night.

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Sirens wailed in the distance.

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He’d run, but they wouldn’t follow.

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It wasn’t the cops he was afraid of.

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“Running again?”

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Zach shuddered to a halt.

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The figure stood blocking his path.

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The squirrel spun around and ran again.

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Through street after street,

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before the figure blocked him again.

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He’d skid to a halt,

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then turn and run again.

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Around a corner.

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Another. Up an alley.

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Corner. Figure. “No!”

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Zach screamed, turning heel again.

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Alley. Corner. Alley.

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Figure. Turn back.

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Alley. Wall. Zach slammed against the wet bricks and tumbled to the floor.

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He fumbled to his feet, bleeding.

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“No!” he screamed again, pointing the gun at the figure.

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“Shoot me.” The figure demanded.

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“Slaughter another one. Like you care.”

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The squirrel pulled the trigger.

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Click. The figure started to laugh.

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Zach broke. He slid to his knees, crying.

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Howling. Screaming.

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His guts heaved. He tried to vomit, but he hadn’t eaten in nearly a day.

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Hadn’t slept in nearly two.

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The figure stepped closer.

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It extended a hand,

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grabbing Zach by the shirt and pulling him to his feet.

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“Who…” The squirrel gasped.

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“Who are you?” The lemur in the pinstripe suit stared silently at the squirrel.

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“I told you. Vengeance.”

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the Quebecois man said simply. -

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“Excellent catch, Victor” Rhys said,

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folding up his newspaper and throwing it up onto the table.

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“Thank you.” I replied, sipping my coffee.

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“His testimony in court about his capture will be…

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interesting.” the wolverine added, wheeling towards me.

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“Well,.” I began, placing down the drink.

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“Sometimes, when the law enforcement have proven themselves to be corrupt and uncaring about the people you love most,

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you need to use unorthodox methods.”

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“Who tipped you off that he was the one who’d embezzled the money?”

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Rhys asked. “My pot dealer.”

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I said nonchalantly.

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“Apparently we use the same one.

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Given I’m both polite and useful to him, and Zach was a piece of shit,

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he tipped me off that he had the cash.”

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I explained, sitting down.

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“Then it was just a case of getting rid of him for long enough that you could get the search warrant.

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You raid his house,

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get the cash while I…

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keep him occupied.”

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“By… leaving cryptic notes on his car,

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stalking him to diners and

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yelling at him in Quebecois?”

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“Yes.” I said calmly.

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“I never laid a finger on him,

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or threatened to.”

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Rhys nodded. “Well,

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once I got into his place and proved he’d stolen it,

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it was such a PR disaster for the bank that getting him locked up was going to be the best choice for them to save face.”

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We exchanged a shrug

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and I sat back down.

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“You think they can find a cure for this AIDS, thing?”

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I nodded. “One day.”

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I said. “I’m sure of it.”

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This was “The Shadows Seize Vengeance”

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by Pascal Farful,

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read for you by Dirt Coyote, from Twitter dot com.

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You can find more stories on the web

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at thevoice.dog,

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or find the show wherever you get your podcasts.

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Thank you for listening

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to The Voice of Dog.

About the Podcast

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The Voice of Dog
Furry stories to warm the ol' cockles, read by Rob MacWolf and guests. If you have a story that would suit the show, you can get in touch with @VoiceOfDog@meow.social on Mastodon, @voiceofdog.bsky.social on Blue Sky, or @Theodwulf on Telegram.

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