Epilogue

Darren woke up with what felt like the worst hangover he’d ever experienced. Sitting on one elbow, the deer groaned and fell back to the bed, holding a hand to his face and staring out the open window, listening as a bird sang in his backyard tree.
He’d survived.
The deer’s eyes watered as he thought back on ‘Purgatory’ and how many he’d been forced to watch and hear die. Crying, he curled up in the bed and hugged his pillow to his chest, painfully aware of his own heart beating heavily against his ribs.
As morning became afternoon, Darren rolled out of bed, stomach aching for food. He walked through his house with a sense of disconnection, unable to take his mind off the show.
Uninterested in cooking, he grabbed a bag of pizza rolls from the freezer, plated a few, and tossed them into the microwave. He stood, staring blankly as the little bite sized ‘pizzas’ rotated inside, stomach growling as they began to pop open. When they were done, he retrieved his plate but found he couldn’t shake the feeling that, had the audience voted on him, the other contestants would have been likely eating similar frozen foods from the dormitory refrigerator.
With a sigh, the deer carried his plate to his dining room table. He froze when his eyes fell upon something that wasn’t there before he’d been abducted – a business sized briefcase of fine, black leather.
Darren sat his pizza rolls aside and reached out to the briefcase with fear. Sitting atop the leather was a small envelope sealed by what looked like an upright chevron cutting through a triangle. With shaky hands, he broke the seal and read:
‘Three,
Congratulations! Through skill or wit or simply dumb luck, you managed to convince the viewership that your life was worth living. Or, at least that you weren’t worth killing!
Please enjoy the modest reward money within the briefcase as a thank you from all of us here at ‘Purgatory’ for participating in the show. What? You didn’t think we’d just leave you with nothing, right?
Signed,
Ankou.
P.S. On a more personal note, I stuffed something else in the briefcase on the off chance you ever get… curious.
P.P.S. I love your antlers, have I ever said that?’
Darren tossed the letter to the side and collapsed in one of the wooden chairs. Licking his lips, he flicked the locks free on the briefcase, the combination not having been set, revealing the contents within.
The briefcase had been filled to the top rim with stacks of twenties. Darren closed his eyes and shivered at what was placed atop the bills. With trembling hands, the deer opened his eyes, swallowed, and picked up the gold plated stethoscope.
Almost without thinking, Darren plugged the earpieces into his ears and timidly placed the bell against his bare chest. Immediately, the clear, loud beating of his heart vibrated within his ears, full of life.
Removing the earpieces, Darren sat the stethoscope aside and popped a pizza roll in his mouth.
“I’m alive.”

~

Darren stared up at the sign for 05’s fight club, ‘Bloodsport Seven’. The building was squat but took up nearly the entire block. He had to drive six hours from his house but was determined to fulfill the civet’s – his friend’s – final wish.
He waited in line with the other spectators and fighters before making it inside, wondering if anyone with him was going to die in a fight or be abducted by a certain coyote with candied words.
“He said I’d never see him again…” Darren took a deep breath and straightened as the lion in front of him shifted awkwardly.
When he finally made it in, he was greeted with immediate panic as the round’s horn went off, being brought momentarily back to ‘Penance’. Heart racing, he shook the thought away and proceeded to the front desk.
“Antlered species have to wear caps for the fights,” a bored looking vixen mumbled, pointing at his head. “You’re welcome to wear your own or we sell some for a small fee. If you’re here to spectate, there are plenty of seats around the back located just off our award winning grille.”
Darren shook his hands apologetically, wincing as, in the distance, a tiger slammed a goat to the mat. “I’m actually here to clear out a friend’s locker. She… passed away.”
The fox’s eyes narrowed but she shrugged and pointed down a hallway to her right.
Thanking the worker, Darren proceeded down the hallway, falling aside as the tiger he’d witnessed barely a minute before was rushed past on a stretcher, staring up at the ceiling with blank eyes. The deer’s mouth hung open, watching as one medic removed the earpieces to a stethoscope and shook his head at the others. It was then Darren noticed the tiger’s neck had been twisted painfully to one side.
He stared until they fell behind the clouded doors of the medical bay. Regaining his footing, he held a hand over his own pounding heart and proceeded into the locker room. After what felt like hours, he found locker 143 on the second floor and proceeded to input the combination.
“26… 14… 22…” He froze as his fingers felt the click in the wheel. With a deep breath, he pulled up on the release and opened the steel door. He immediately fell to the bench, staring up at the pictures held with magnets against the door, a smiling 05 staring back at him.
In one photo, she stood with an old fox, each wearing a martial arts suit. In another, a younger civet was posing with 05 at what appeared to be a theme park. It all looked so normal to Darren.
“Five…” His knees shook as he rose to his feet. Somewhere below, a locker slammed shut, causing him to recoil in surprise. “Fuck. How long am I going to…” Shaking his head, he began taking the pictures down and piling them up with her other belongings, keeping a black journal separate.
With no small amount of fear, he opened the journal’s cover and was greeted by an obscene drawing of a civet flashing her breasts and holding out a middle finger. Beneath the crude sketch was a small note that read:
‘You’ve found Veronica’s journal. If you’re not Veronica, fuck off!’
Darren chuckled at that and ran his fingers over the words. “Veronica…” Sighing, he began to flip through the pages until he came to what appeared to be a contact’s list. To his relief, he found one number simply labeled ‘partner in crime’. Assuming it to be her brother, he closed the journal and slipped it into a plastic bag with the rest of Veronica’s effects.
With one last show of finality, he shut the door.

~

“Who the fuck is this?” the voice on the other end of the line demanded.
Darren rubbed his eyes, hearing much of 05 in the male’s voice. “My name is Darren. Are you… I…”
“Darren? Who the fuck is Darren?”
“…I have some news of your sister, Veronica. I… She passed away.” The line went quiet then and Darren wondered if he’d been disconnected. Checking to see that he had bars, he asked, mouth dry, “Are you there?”
The reply came quietly. “Yeah. I’m here. Veronica’s dead…? Was it… the club…?”
The deer looked down at the proud picture of 05 in her martial arts uniform and found his throat tightening. “No. She… are you in town? It might be best if I explain in person.”
“Yeah, I am. I… get off in a couple hours. I’d leave now but my boss is a dick and the dead don’t get any deader right?”
Darren took a deep breath and looked around, unfamiliar with the city. “Yeah. Can you come to the Rosethorn Mall?” he asked, noticing the multistoried building in the near distance.
“Yeah. I’ll be there at six. Who am I looking for?”
“I’m a deer. I’ve got on a red button up shirt.” Darren stared down at his chest, blinking rapidly. “Feel free to call me when you arrive.”
“I will.”
Without a goodbye, the line went dead, leaving Darren alone with his thoughts and the picture of 05.

~

Darren paced aimlessly through the mall, unable to sit still. There was still over an hour remaining before he had to explain to a man he’d never met about how his sister died on a show that was as unlikely as winning the lottery. He fought with himself, trying to come up with what he was going to say.
“What ‘can’ I say?” he said aloud, folding his arms and chewing idly on a finger.
05 – Veronica – had been abducted just as he had and had died hanging in front of her ‘fans’ for an illegal program. Would her brother try and hurt him for surviving? Would he break down? Would he demand they go to the authorities? Darren didn’t know and the uncertainty was creating a painful knot in his guts.
When he was determined to change the thought, he walked into a bookstore, intent on putting one other matter on his mind at ease. Asking a bashful doe at the front desk for help, he proceeded to the Fantasy/Sci-Fi section.
His heart pounded as he began taking each book off the shelf and flipping to the inside of the back cover. He had to have gone through over a hundred different books before coming across one with a very familiar cougar as the author. His breath caught in his throat as 04 stared back at him. “Sigrid J. Bulwark…”
“You a fan?”
Darren jumped at the question. Turning, he was greeted by the smiling face of a small hyena. “Yes, I… I mean, no. I’ve never read anything by her.”
The hyena tapped a claw to the book’s cover. “This is book one of her newest series. I’ve been hooked on Sigrid’s work for over a decade now. If you like science-fiction, you’ll love this.”
Darren’s stomach tightened further, knowing the series would never be completed because of a well-placed crossbow bolt. “Thanks,” he said, tucking the book under his arm. “Do you work here?”
The hyena stood on the tips of his toes and nodded quickly. “Don’t worry, I don’t get paid commission though. I just genuinely like her work!”
Darren laughed at that. “I wasn’t worried. Just curious. Thank you for your help.”
“No problem! Let me know if you need help with anything else! I’ll be here until closing!”
As the hyena began to practically skip away, Darren remembered Veronica’s other request. Clearing his throat, he called out, “Excuse me?”
The hyena skidded to a stop on his broad feet, looking back to Darren with a shy smile. “Yes?”
“Would you…” The deer shifted nervously on his hooves. “I’m new to this city. I was… Damn, Darren, use your words…”
The hyena chuckled playfully, holding a hand up to his head as his ears flicked back.
“Would you be interested in getting a drink with me? Maybe… showing me around the town? That… That is to say, I don’t know where a good place to eat is…”
Licking a tongue over his bared teeth, the hyena nodded. “Yeah. No, that sounds like fun. I get off at eleven. Friend of mine runs a little bar near the lake.” Crossing the aisle, he offered a hand. “I’m Jack, by the way.”
Clasping the hyena’s hand in his, the deer smiled. “Darren.”
“I’ll see you tonight then, Darren.”
“Sounds good.”
They parted ways then, the deer’s heart thudding rapidly in his chest. It had been nearly a decade since he’d last gone on a date, let alone with someone he knew nothing about, preferring to always meet people online first.
The memory of how he’d met Ankou resurfaced and he was sure he wouldn’t be using online hookup sites anymore.
Paying for the book, Darren exited the bookstore and found a seat near the food court alongside a fountain filled with coins. He still didn’t know what he was going to say to Veronica’s brother but knew the words would come.
Everything was going to be all right. The horror was over.
Taking a deep breath, he withdrew 04’s – Sigrid’s – book from the bag and turned to the first page.

~

“My name is Ankou.”
“Don’t tell me your name!” the jackal chastised, dipping his fingers into his drink and spritzing the coyote with vodka. “I don’t like knowing the names of my one night stands.”
“Excellent.” The coyote grinned, leaning back on the barstool and crossing his legs. He’d laid eyes on the jackal earlier in the evening, perusing the night club for entertainment. The boy’s bright, red hair had caught his gaze and he wondered what it’d look like beneath the red lights of his set.
“You’re staring at me like you’re hungry or something,” the jackal giggled and took a drink. “Don’t look so hurt, you know people come here just to fuck, right?”
“I’m no hurt at all,” Ankou said, brushing his own red bang aside and taking a sip of his drink. “I just find it refreshing to find someone else just looking for some no strings fucking.”
The jackal licked his lips at that and held up a finger. “No kinks. I don’t want you, like, licking my toes or whipping me or anything bathroom related. You know,” he spun his straw around, swirling the ice in his glass, “just bend me over and we’ll call that good.”
Ankou fake pouted, stretching a leg between them and tapping the top of the jackal’s foot with his own. “Not even a little sniff…?” He stuck his tongue out. “I’m kidding.”
The jackal shivered and scrunched his nose up. “Feet are gross. All… sweaty and rough, and, like, they stink.” He took a drink. “Ew. I just like cock.”
Ankou’s grin widened as he found himself wondering just how thick and scented the boy’s pads were, knowing full well it was likely he’d get a chance to see for himself eventually. “Then cock is what you shall have, sexy.”
The jackal chugged the rest of his cocktail before rising on unsteady feet and passing by Ankou. “But first, I want to dance! Come on!”
The coyote pulled his phone from his pocket. “Go on. I’ll join you in a minute.” He slapped the jackal’s backside as he padded his way back to the dancefloor. Watching with amusement, Ankou flicked his phone on, input his passcode, and called up the boy’s file:
·	Subject: 01
·	Species: Jackal
·	Age: 24
·	Sex: Male
·	Build: Thin
·	Entrant: Accepted