A Prey Among Predators

In the bright moonlight and dim desk lamp, plastic bags and plastic utensils litter the surface of Clayton’s desk. Three to-go boxes are on the desk among the small stacks of paper and office supplies. Two of them are being eaten out of—one with salad and one with solely cooked meat—while the other has a fork tapping against it.

“You’re kidding,” Clayton’s rough voice sounds. “You guys don’t have any technology to negate pheromones or something?”

Beat.

“Wow, unbelievable.”

A pause.

“Yeah, we would’ve gotten him, but the trail was cut off due to pheromones.”

Another moment of silence.

“Oh yeah, true, you guys would find him first, of course. So why did you search my office?”

Short beat.

“Geez, thinking I can use pheromones; give me a break.”

Quick silence passes.

“Pardon me, officer.”

Another pause.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll contact you if he comes around.”

Clayton puts his office phone down on the handler before turning to his to-go box and munching on its meaty contents.

Brett peers at him from his right as he chews. “So?”

Clayton shakes his head and swallows. “They can’t get to Hart if his trail runs through pheromones. That’s why they searched my office rather than just plainly follow his trail.”

Nolan, who sits across the desk holding his fork full of salad, pipes up: “And they don’t have any way to combat pheromones?”

Clayton turns to him and shakes his head. “Nope. They should do. I’ll put my tax dollars toward that project.”

“I guess pheromones aren’t that common, eh?” Brett shoves more meat into his mouth.

“No, they’re not,” Nolan tells him. “Haven’t heard that term for a long time.” He nibbles on a salad leaf from his fork.

“Which is good because they’re just plain awful.” Clayton swings his fork around with his wrist’s motion. “Restricts free will.”

Brett raises his eyebrows. “Even if the pheromones attract you.”

Clayton points his fork to him. “That’s even worse.”

He gazes up in a subtle trance. “Although I did get a lovely vixen by her using pheromones on me...yet she turned out to be a bit...clingy…” He lowers his head with embarrassed disappointment.

“And that’s why she used pheromones.” Clayton stabs some meat with his fork. “They’re trouble, even the slightest bit.”

“Yup.” Brett resorts to eating some more.

Nolan gazes at the two with concern. “Is there anyway I can help…?”

Clayton flicks his expressionless eyes at him. “If we can’t do anything, you can’t.”

He jolts back as his eyes widen and ears lower.

Brett straightens up and turns to his friend. “Whoa, Kelly, chill.”

Clayton looks away from the two. “Sorry, it’s just a rough time.”

Brett faces Nolan. “As long as you stick around with us, you’re helping.”

Nolan’s ears slowly rise. “Okay…” He adjusts himself. “So I can help even though I’m a prey?”

Brett flicks his free hand by his side. “Of course! Don’t mold yourself to those labels; you’re helping us a lot!”

“Okay…” Nolan peers down at his small box of salad. “Thanks…”

Clayton holds a hand out to him. “And even if I say things to you that are blunt and…”

“...rude, dry, close-minded—”

Clayton slaps a large hand over Brett’s mouth, forcing him to shut up.

“—I don’t mean them personally,” Clayton finishes off with empathetic eyes on him. “It’s just how I talk.” He then removes his hand from Brett’s mouth.

“And unnecessary.” Brett shoots him a playful glare. “Very unnecessary.”

“Your input was unnecessary.”

Brett jabs his fork at him. “Your…” His voice fades; he presses his lips and resorts to wagging his fork before turning back to his food and eating.

Clayton gazes down at him. “Things are better left unsaid for you, Howdy.” He then turns to Nolan.

Nolan is giggling at the two.

Clayton raises his thick eyebrows. “But we’re good?”

He lets out a sigh. “Yeah, yeah…”

“Good.” Clayton then resumes eating.

Nolan flicks his eyes down to his forkful of leaves before reverting them to the two. “But…”

Clayton lifts his eyes up at him from his to-go box.

“...what’s the plan for tomorrow’s game?”

Clayton straightens up and puts his bowl down on the desk. “We start Oettinger.” He reaches out to his computer’s keyboard, wakes up the screen with a tap, and begins clicking with the mouse and typing. “As much as I would love to have Hart starting, there’s nothing much we could do to get him back.”

Brett halts his chewing and peers down at his nearly-empty to-go box. “He was the best goalie in the league too…”

With a click of the mouse, Clayton’s computer screen goes dark and he pushes away from it. “I know, it’s a pity, but the show must go on.” He gazes at both of them. “We call it a night?”

Nolan sighs and looks down at his unfinished bowl. “Yeah…” He takes the lid from the desk and snaps it on it.

He hops off from his seat. “Bye, guys…!” He gives them a shy wave with his free hand. “See you tomorrow at the rink.”

“Be there on time,” Clayton remarks.

He drifts toward the door. “I will.”

“Bye, Patty!” Brett exclaims from behind him. “Glad you’re back to yourself…!”

Nolan, with his hand on the knob, turns to Brett. Brett is grinning with his rusty-colored ears attentive.

“I am too…,” Nolan forces out. “...just...still not completely...over it.”

Clayton glances at him from his bowl. “As long as you can function enough to play.”

Brett chuckles and pats Clayton’s back. He juts his thumb at the coach. “His mind is a puck.”

Clayton pulls away from him and shoots him furrowed eyebrows. “Is it bad that I’m just looking out after my team…!”

Brett waves to Nolan. “Bye, Patty.”

Nolan cracks a small smile. “Bye, Brett…!” He then slips through the door as two friends playfully snap at each other from behind him.

Notes