The Fire Triangle, A Zootopia Fan-Fiction -- Prologue, Escape From Zoo York

The Fire Triangle, A Zootopia Fanfiction -- Prologue, Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Zootopia stories, characters, settings, and properties belong to the Walt Disney Co. This story is written under Fair Use Copyright laws

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The Fire Triangle - A Zootopia Fanfiction

Prologue – Escape From Zoo York

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Chapter 5

Pushing the duffel and backpack ahead of him, Dylan Yeats wormed his way up the chute, with Danny Tipperin's penlight clamped firmly between his fingers.

At first the going was relatively easy; the tunnel rose in a gentle arc and he was able to push the bag and pack out ahead of him, and then pull himself up behind.

Soon however, the shaft became steeper and steeper, and he was forced to brace the items on top of his head while inching his way upwards, using his fingers and toes. The sharper angle also obliged him to transfer the mini-light from his paw to his mouth. With every move he made the beam would yaw to the left or the right like the searchlight of a destroyer. Dylan would have just as soon shut the darn thing off, but even foxes can't see in total darkness.

Still, although he didn't realize it, he was lucky to BE a fox, a mammal that likes to den beneath the ground. While his species wasn't as earth-friendly as say, a rabbit or a ferret, had he been a creature of the wide-open spaces like an antelope or a cheetah he would have already surrendered to the fear of being confined in such close quarters.

Even so, it seemed to the young silver fox as if he were two miles underground rather than a single story below street level...and claustrophobia breeds paranoia. When he got to the tunnel exit he knew—he just knew—that the instant he opened the hatch, (or lid, or whatever was up there,) strong paws were going seize upon him. And then he'd find himself in cuffs, being frog-marched towards a police cruiser while the crowd jeered in the background, and..."SHUT that stuff!"

He bit his lip and pressed on.

As he continued to wriggle his way upwards, Dylan Yeats had three factors working in his favor; two that he knew about and a third that he did not.

The first one was that he couldn't hear that blankety-blank police PA from nside here. ("...we have you surrounded...") The young fox didn't understand it, but he'd take it; that thing was like a cross between the Voice of Doom and a Chinese Water Torture.

Second factor, the chute was old and badly corroded in places—which made it easy for the young fox to find pawholds, toeholds, and spots where he could brace himself against the wall to rest.

The third factor, (the one of which he was unawares) was that he happened to be burrowed beneath a city street. In the countryside or even the suburbs, the walls of the chute would have long ago been pierced by a thousand trailing roots.

All very good, except something was blocking the shaft up ahead; almost directly above the young fox, the beam of the mini light was no longer melting into darkness, but forming a translucent circle against a solid background. For half of several seconds, Dylan held in place, with no idea what to do. How the heck was he supposed to get past...?

Then it hit him. "Agggggh, grrrrr, that's the exit hatch, DUMB fox!"

After mentally beating himself to a pulp, Dylan allowed himself to relax—and felt his right foot losing purchase against the wall. He instinctively tried to dig in with his claws; big mistake, the metal here was slick, and he fell headlong into a backwards slide.