The Furred Reich (4 page)

Regardless, Hans only smiled as he waited to be pulled back into his nightmare reality, a reality that was certain to reassert itself on him. Whatever this dream really was. Despite the herbs that kept him hard and at attention despite himself, Hans’ body again insisted on sleep after his fourth ejaculation. His second one went right into Kairah’s tugging walls.

Panting and spent, Hans sat back and lay next to the lioness while the deercat cleaned herself off, in the other room to the sound of running water. The German looked sheepishly at Kairah, and she smiled back at him as the two lay there. “It’s OK dear, from what you say you’ve been through, you really do need more rest.”

Hans pursed his lips to that. “Ja…… Where am I, by the way?”

Kairah shrugged, “It’s only called ‘Oasis.’ We’re headed south past the Velt. You seem to be from a very strange place.”

Hans nodded. They both laid there in silence for a few moments. As if by instinct, Hans tried to suppress all the thoughts he had.

“C’mon, I think ’Lija has had enough time to herself, let’s join her in the bathroom.”

And the three of them did. Underneath the shower head ’Lija continued to be shy and submissive, keeping to herself whenever the moment allowed, but Kairah more than made up for it, laughing with Hans as the two of them together soaped down the sweet deercat. ’Lija seemed once again resigned to her fate of being teased. This time, Hans joined into the teasing, but only behind Kairah’s lead.

Once finished, the three of them crawled snugly into bed. To Hans’ delight he was indeed sandwiched naked in between the two of them, one arm around each of their shoulders, two furry bodies snugged against either side of him.

Within just seconds the black hole of sleep came to take Hans away. This night’s rest, for the first time in months, wouldn’t be cut short by shells, spandaus, frostbite or low-flying planes. It might just have been the best sleep of his life.

Asril

Asril awoke to a tense bustle of furres outside the door of her tiny guest room: The sound of slamming doors, neighing horses, and scared, crying children. The room which had been so graciously lent to her for the night had no windows, but the charcoal-furred housecat didn’t need to see with her eyes to know what was going on outside. People were fleeing, especially women and children.

Opening the door to the dirt road this town called its main street, Asril peeked just her muzzle and pink nose out the door. Dust kicked up from frantic movement and made her sneeze. It was happening. The monsters were coming. They might already have been in her hometown of Miamar, a place she left only a month ago.

Asril’s tummy growled. She aught to be leaving, too, lest she want to stick around and see what would happen when the beasts arrived. Calmly, Asril went back into her little guest room and began packing her sparse belongings into an old, worn suitcase that looked like it belonged to a businessman. She had only a few things to wear besides the white t-shirt draped over her body. She slunk into the only pair of trousers she had and opened the door to a frightened, but still somewhat orderly exodus.

Aolom was the name of this town. She had traveled for three days to hurriedly get here. This place looked much like her own home town, and the composition looked somewhat similar too. All of them were feline. Asril noticed that as she fled westward from her coastal home the felines got stockier. Those in Aolom were a bit bigger than her own stock, and this town had a good number of large, striped cats too.

Sighing, the feline sneaked into an empty restaurant. Like a well-practiced tactician, Asril slid into the back kitchen with no noise, and began poking around the pantries for food. Then she was greeted by a deep, throaty growl. “What are you doing in my kitchen?!”

She spun around and saw one of those big, striped cats, an older one, in a chef’s apron. The housecat had a ‘persona’ for these moments, too.

“I… I… I haven’t eaten in a day. I thought nobody was left here so I was trying to get any food that was left behind I’m sorry, mister. I’m just really hungry.”

She sniffled in fear, ears down onto her skull. In fact, that wasn’t a lie at all. She was hungry, and she hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon. The sniffling was rehearsed, but the older man didn’t seem the type to be any wiser. He paused and looked at the floor.

“I see. There are fresh slabs of roast duck in the pantry over there. I was going to throw them out. You can have them, but you must leave right now. The monsters will be here soon, and you don’t have the claws to defend yourself. They’ll gobble up a young kitten like you in no time. Now, get out!”

“Thank you sir.”

Blinking, Asril quickly snatched the slabs of meat, a leftover fish from last night, and hurried out. The scene outside was getting more chaotic. Though she wanted to flee right away, the young housecat knew that if she didn’t exploit moments like these, her stomach would regret it later.

Amid the chaos Asril found easy pickings. Her conscience would not weigh heavily on her tonight as there was no need to pick the pockets of women or children. No, this morning, Asril had a choice from whom she would steal. And her swift paw soon found its way into the pockets of another older male. In a smooth motion a wallet was produced, and taken away from its original owner.

“Hey! Help! There’s a thief in here!!!”

Her mark’s cries were lost amid the calamity. Asril slunk her way toward the city walls opposite from those from which she entered. Her destination? Anywhere west. That seemed to be the only direction to which people were fleeing. Not a good sign for her family’s home in Miamar, but that was entirely another matter. With a bag full of food and with enough money to last for at least awhile, the thief once again escaped to live for another harsh day.

Oasis

Hans felt light-headed with well-being, despite the sickness he felt just a few days ago. He sunk into the two soft bodies resting along his sides, burying himself in them and in the sense that he had been saved. Hans lay like that for a very long time, for once doing his best only to be in the moment.

Days… or hours went by – he wasn’t really sure – before he was gently roused by a rustling and a few giggles from one of the girls.

“Oh, he’s a big boy. He’ll be fine”

Upon feeling Kairah’s hand in his hair, Hans opened his eyes, smiled groggily at her, and sank back into a healing sleep.

“Hey… HEY! Wake up, you!”

Hans felt a prod at his side.

“Just a few more minutes baby. He-he…”

“HEY! Get up!”

Hans peeled his eyes open and saw that his wake up call had come not from Kairah but from someone completely different.

“Huh?”

Like Kairah, the man was also a “furry.” Middle aged and shifty. The man looked like a prairie dog of some kind.

“You must leave now,” he huffed.

Hans blinked and sat up, his naked parts still under the covers.

“You’ve been sleeping here for three days. If you want to stay, it’s another ten gold.”

It looked like mid-day in the hot desert. He looked around for Kai and ’Lija, but there was no trace of them or their things. Suddenly he felt disappointed, and entirely indifferent to the innkeeper’s annoyance.

Hans’ things, things from his world, were neatly stacked into a corner: A rolled-up bivouac, a mess tin, his belt with many cartridges, a dented coal scuttle helmet, a spade, gas mask, and, of course, his Mauser and strap. On the side was a scribbled note.

Hans:

’Lija and I are going home. You really looked so happy sleeping here so we left you be. I left some gold. It’s not much, but it’ll tide you over. It’s in your helmet. Take care, buddy.

~Kai

Hans frumped his shoulders. He really liked those two, and suddenly found himself completely alone in what had to be some different world. Then he remembered his conversation with Kairah that night, and how she was traveling to ‘the Velt.’ Hans didn’t know how to get to the Velt, but it was the one location where he at least knew someone. Actually, it was the only location he knew of at all.

His mind made up, Hans went about putting on his uniform and gear from the old world. Though his uniform was dirty and worn, it carried a certain familiarity. It was time to think about what he really needed.

Would he need that mess tin? There were no more rations, but he had no other utensils, so he hooked it to the back. Zeltbahn? He would need that tent. Helmet? He held it in his hand for a moment. Chances are there would be no need, but discarding it just seemed unfathomable. As for the rifle, heavy as it was, leaving that would be foolish.

Hans sighed as he looked at his wreath of heavy cartridges. This world seemed peaceful. Chances are he wouldn’t need the cartridges. Reluctantly, he placed them on the table.

Then there was that stupid gas mask. He never had to use it, and it was quite cumbersome. Parting with that was easy.

It was time to go. He strapped on his Mauser and tucked the dented helmet under his arm. But going down the stairs, his heart felt heavy. He turned around and looked at those cartridges. Leaving them felt like abandoning a comrade, or perhaps leaving a piece of himself. He probably wouldn’t need the damn things, but at the same time he wasn’t ready to part with them. Not after all they’d been through. Swallowing hard, Hans turned back, draped the cartridges around his shoulders, and trudged down the stairs feeling much less carefree than he did when he first awoke.

“Excuse me… sir… Can you tell me where is the Velt?”

From behind the desk, the ‘prairie dog’ shot him a suspicious glance.

“It’s a long ways to the south of here. Just take that road there.” He waved to the road as if to dismiss Hans, who thanked him, nodded, and turned around to march out. Outside there was a nervous, excited chatter that could be felt even within the inn’s walls.

A crowd had gathered on the sand-frosted, brick street, the only one in ‘Oasis.’ Prairie dog boys were jumping and pointing heavenward. Some mothers were quickly whisking their children to shelter. Everyone spoke in hushed tones, but Hans couldn’t really make out what the people were saying. None of them paid the exotic visitor any attention. They seemed to fixated on the sky.

Then a familiar, mechanical howl caught Hans’ attention. With hands over his brow to block the sun, Hans joined the gawking prairie dogs and looked heavenward to see a German fighter plane flying northward, right over the village, complete with the black cross on its side and stark swastika on its tail. Little girls squealed. The boys pointed and ‘wowed.’

“Hey! HEY! HEYYYYYYYYY!” Hans screamed in vain at the Messerschmitt. He turned on his heel and sprinted in the other direction after the lone German fighter in the sky.

Miao

Asril’s legs felt like rubber, but things could have been much worse. Since Aolom, she counted seven days on the road without incident. Still, the housecat feared running into one of the furres she stole from. The destination for her and the other refugees, for lack of another option, was a kingdom called ‘Miao,’ an irony not lost on the feline.

This land was more hilly than the lands before it, and a bit taxing on the cat’s short legs, but the soft sunshine and springlike weather welcomed any and all to this place. Small plots of wild rice fields, similar to those in her home, reminded her that she wasn’t too far away yet. Rice husks regularly lay on the fare way, waiting for carriages to come by and break up the grains so that farmers could save their labor. Scantly 5' tall, Asril’s well traveled hindpaws would do little to crack the rice, but nevertheless she did what she could by walking over them, perhaps softening them up for passing carriages. She also noticed that many denizens, maybe even half, were those big, striped cats.

The border to this ‘Miao’ place was hardly a border. Just a booth with two guards, pikes raised skyward, standing at attention and looking straight. She heard a rumor that the post was overwhelmed by a throng of refugees just a few hours ago, and the guards were now freely allowing all to enter. If the kingdom’s soldiers couldn’t even stop a throng of desperate furres, how could it ever stand up to the monsters? She tried her best to shake away that thought.

Scaling a hill, Asril finally got a view of the city she had quested for: A sea of tiled roofs nestled together in a valley with a white-capped mountain looming in the distance. Two tall pagodas jutted out on either side of town. As she peered closer, Asril could see lime-washed adobes sheltered under the roofs. She scurried down the hill and along the road leading into this idyllic place that would be her home for the next few days.

Rows and columns of armored furres lined the entrance. Reflexively she jumped and turned to go back.

“Stop where you are, traveler! Come on forward.”

Now it all made sense. She felt her heart sink into her chest for a second. Maybe it was best for her journey to end here. Maybe these columns of soldiers could push back the monsters who were surely on their way already. One of the soldiers led her behind the line and placed her in a column of other dusty furres who carried what belongings they could. She asked the soldier where she was being taken but he didn’t answer. Still, this fate seemed better than the alternative. At least with this she’d be given food.

The crowd groaned and sighed when they saw their new home; and open-air camp that was already filled. The newcomers huddled into the pen’s boarded, wooden confines. Almost immediately Asril sensed danger.

Paws occasionally shoved at vulnerable cat as she walked through. Out of instinct she did her best to pad over toward one of the fenced edges, clinging to her suitcase as she did. After a few moments, the pushing hands turned into gropes, something the young cat had never been subjected to.

Asril hissed angrily as a hand squeezed over her breast through the fabric of her riding shirt. Soon she felt an adjacent furre rub against her flank. Embarrassment rushed to Asril’s cheeks. She tried her best to slink away, but there were people everywhere. In her vulnerability another male grasped the nape of her neck and that finally made her cry out. The housecat lowered her head and treaded her way to the edge of the camp, keeping her eyes closed as the mass of hands pawed and squeezed at her, unwilling to look at her own molestation.