The Fire Triangle, A Zootopia Fanfiction -- Part One: Fuel - 24

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

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Part One:

Fuel

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Chapter 3 – Day of Carrots and Blueberries

(Continued...Pt. 16)

They arrived early at the Festival grounds well before the main gates opened to the public. As they had on Friday, Judy and her family were taking advantage of their status as vendors, slipping in through the side entrance ahead of the crowds..

Perhaps 'taking advantage' wasn't quite a fair term; no one in the Hopps caravan was playing the vendor card simply to get the jump on the regular patrons. Far from it; there was work to be done and plenty of it. They needed to get the Hopps Family Farm's stall cleaned up, set up, and ready to do business; sweep out the back, lay out the produce, get rid of the empty fruit and vegetable crates, post the prices on the chalkboard, and make sure they had plenty of extra stock on hand. Much to Judy Hopps' surprise, it was a task which Nick Wilde seemed to thoroughly enjoy, pitching in eagerly to help out.

With Saturday's arrival, the Carrot Days Festival was about to shift into high gear, and it was 'gonna be a buster' in the words of Judy's father. With at least an hour to go before opening time, the lines were already five deep at the turnstiles. And why not, there was fine weather on tap for the weekend; clear skies, light breezes and a forecast calling for highs in the low 80's. You couldn't have asked for a more perfect couple of days.

For all the changes the Carrot Days Festival had gone through over years, one tradition remained; Saturdays were reserved for the competitions; to name just three, the prize for the biggest carrot, the prize for the tastiest carrot, and the carrot-cake eating contest, (this year sponsored by Gideon Grey's Bakery,).

Of these, the Hopps Family Farm was entered in the first and third competitions but not in the second; the panel of judges for the tastiest carrot contest changed annually on a rotating basis and this year it was Stu Hopps' turn to serve. (Judy's Uncle Terry was representing the family in the Carrot Cake eating contest, something about which she had decidedly mixed feelings.) There were tractor pulls, there was a plowing contest; this year they'd added wood-sculpting competition—using chainsaws.

And then of course there were the athletic competitions, the tug-of-war, the wrist-wrestling challenge, and the ever-popular running contests; including the 2K Bun Run, and the big race of the day, the 10K Rabbithon. Among the entrants to this event was a bunny named Judy Hopps, representing not only her family but also the Zootopia Police Department.

After sliding the last flat of blueberries into place—"Ow...Carrots!" "WHAT did I tell you about sampling, fox? Paws! Off!"—Judy and Nick bade a temporary farewell to the others and grabbed the guitar they'd purchased, heading for the camping area.

"This thing BETTER work, Carrots." The fox had grumbled when they'd climbed into her dad's pick-up to head home the night before. "I'm not paying fifty bucks for a dead end." (He had actually shelled out only half the purchase price.)

Judy had assured him that it would, but privately she couldn't be sure. Wouldn't it be just their luck if their new acquisition didn't play for the same reason Erin's bass had given up the ghost?

The 'two guitars' they'd seen at the flea market had actually turned out to be only a single instrument; a guitar with two necks. Judy had found that extremely odd, but who cared if the jack could be swapped out with the one in Erin's bass? (IF it was functional of course.)

A phone call from Nick to Finnick, ("Dangit, I'm trying to eat breakfast!") had confirmed that Conor was at the van, and another from Judy to Bobby Catmull had verified that the cougar was on his way to the Festival. "Be there in half an hour."

They were halfway to the campground, when the fox abruptly turned to her.

"Mind explaining something to me, Carrots? What the heck is the point in trying to repair your sister's bass guitar right NOW? What difference will it make? It's a little later for her to start over again." (The quiver in the fox's tail told Judy he'd been harboring this particular question all night.)

"Have faith, Nick," was all she said; it was a weak answer at best and she knew it, but the truth of the matter was, she was following a hunch, (and try telling that to her companion!) It was an intuition so abstract, she couldn't put it into words, but at the same time so strong, it couldn't be ignored. And THIS rabbit had learned a long time ago that when her instincts kicked into overdrive, you had better follow along if you knew what was good for you.

They found Conor Lewis standing beneath a tree, halfway in between the van and the motorhome. He was clad in a plain white t-shirt, jogging-shorts, and fingerless gloves, hard at work on a makeshift punching bag he'd fashioned from some rope and what looked like a stuffed military surplus duffle.

As they watched, the young fox fired off a side kick with his right foot and segued into a spinning rear with his left, driving the bag backwards against the tree trunk. As it swung forward again, he caught it with his pawlm and slammed his other elbow into the canvas like a nutcracker. Back-fisting the bag as he moved away, he charged in with a flurry of punches a microsecond later.

Beside her Judy saw Nick Wilde staring openmouthed; she knew what he was thinking; how the heck had her sister ever landed a kick on this kid?

It wasn't what SHE was thinking however; Judy Hopps' eyes weren't open wide, they were tight and almost wincing. The young fox's attack on the bag was vicious, brutal-not quite savage, but definitely feral, fueled by a deep anger. Yet at the same time he seemed to be completely in control, able to calculate his tactics.

"He didn't learn moves like THAT on his own," Judy swiftly concluded, "Someone taught him, someone I'm not sure I'd want to face on the street. Whoa, I'm just glad Erin can't see this; she'd REALLY be spooked."

It wasn't the young fox's fighting skill that would have disturbed her younger sister, it was the channeled fury behind it—and that was all on Conor, no one can teach you to have a rage pool; it's either there or it isn't. Nick Wilde had been absolutely right about this kid, he was street, all the way.

They saw him leap up into a fox-pounce, and come down aiming for the bag with a head-butt. This time he miscalculated however, coming in at too steep an angle. Instead of striking the bag full force, he glanced off the canvas and went sliding down the front, turning tail-over-teakettle when he hit the ground and landing on his back.

He shook it off, rolled over quickly, and whirled to his feet again.

That was when he noticed Nick and Judy watching him.

"I-I meant to do that." He told them, offering a lame grin.

Judy and Nick both laughed, and just like that, the tension was broken; there was something rather endearing about the young silver fox's pluck. He'd gotten up immediately rather than let his faux pas deter him.

But then he got a look at what Nick Wilde was holding in his paws and both his ears and eyebrows shot upwards as if they were spring-loaded.

"Hey, hey, heyyy, what's that you got there, big guy?" he held out his paws, waggling his fingers inwards, "Lemme see?"

Nick passed the guitar to the younger fox; he let out a low whistle.

"Whoa, a Denelectro 6/12 double-neck; niiiice...where'd you get this?"

"At the flea market," the red fox told him.

"It doesn't play." Judy added hastily. She found Conor's enthusiasm slightly annoying. They had bought this guitar for the parts, not as a collector's item.

"Oh I can see that," the young fox answered, turning it over in his paws. "The necks are cracked and the bridges are toast." He looked down the length of the instrument with a single eye as if sighting down the barrel of a gun. "The rest of the hardware looks okay though, same for the amplifier jack; that's why you bought it, right?"

"That's it Conor," Judy felt a small, awkward flush rising in her cheeks; Nick had told Finnick on the phone earlier that they'd found a possible replacement jack, but he hadn't mentioned where they'd found it.

"Thought so," the young silver-fox lowered the guitar again. "I can't tell for sure if it's any good though, not without plugging it into an amp."

"Can you do that now?" Judy asked him. She needed to know; had they made the right move, buying that guitar?

Conor reluctantly shook his head.

"Believe me, I'd like to, but if I do that and get majorly feedback, the neighbors aren't gonna be any too thrilled about it." He said this while indicating the spaces on either side of Finnick's van, then pointed to the road leading through the campground, now strewn with a hundred varieties of refuse, "This place was a stinkin' rave last night; music blasting, fireworks going off, dirt-bikes and three wheelers racing around all over the place, guys getting into fights, that kind of stuff. I counted like six times the Sheriff's deps showed up, before they called 'enough!'. They got everyone together over by the picnic tables and read out the Riot Act, told 'em 'One more noise complaint and somebody's going to jail!'" He said this as if expecting Nick and Judy to understand automatically; peace officers themselves and all that.

He was right, they did, Nick especially; he had seen that circus coming to town the first time he'd been here.

"The good news," Conor told them, pointing to the butt end of the guitar, "Is that the jack on this bad boy looks like it should fit Erin's bass guitar, no problem."

"Yay!' Judy whooped and offered him a fist bump. Now the kid was getting down to business.

Conor returned the gesture but with an added note of caution.

"Like I said, I can't be sure of any of this until Bobby C. gets here with the tools."

"He's on the way; I talked to him a few minutes ago," Judy told him. She appreciated the young fox's air of restraint; it was perfectly reasonable not to get their hopes up.

Then Nick Wilde pointed at the guitar with a raised ear.

"Mind if I ask you something Conor? What the heck is the point of guitar with two necks? You can't play both at the same time."

"Yeah, I know." The young fox said, holding the instrument as if he were playing it. "The idea here is that you can switch from a six to a twelve string and back again without having to change guitars; you don't have time for that on stage. Jimmy Cage f'rinstance could never of pulled off playing Stairway to Heaven live without using a double-neck; that tune's got a real fast guitar-change in the middle."

"Ahhh, I get it." Judy said. Actually, she wasn't quite sure she did, but what the kid was saying sure as heck sounded logical. Then she told him, "Listen Conor, there's one thing we never discussed; if you can help us out, what do we owe you?"

If she was expecting him to wave her off with an 'Ah, fugeddaboutit,' Judy Hopps was in for a rude awakening. Conor held up the guitar.

"Can I have this? I'd love to own a double-neck."

Judy blinked, and then her ears went up and then she was staring. (Beside her, Nick Wilde looked quietly amused.)

"What? But it doesn't play anyway and you're going to take the jack out..."

"Ahhh you don't know the animals down at Peace Rock Guitar Co-Op," the young fox was grinning and offering her a thumbs up. "I've seen those guys bring axes back to life in much worse shape than this one." He lifted an eyebrow, "Do we have deal?"

"Do I have a choice?" Judy asked herself, wondering how she'd gotten into this. A minute ago the kid had been all friendly and congenial; now he was driving a bargain. She held out a paw, "Deal!"

She almost pulled it away again when Conor spit into his pawlm before taking it; yep, he was street all right.

(While all this was going on Nick Wilde was biting his lip and looking away, making noises like a leaky steam radiator.)

"But if you can't fix Erin's bass, the deal's off," she said, pulling a tissue from her pocket and wiping her paw with it, trying to salvage a little face.

No such luck; Conor shook his head and grinned slyly, holding up the double-neck again "Nuh-uh rabbit, you shoulda said that before we shook on it; this thing's mine now, free and clear." He suddenly seemed to remember something and pointed towards a concrete structure about 30 yards away, fast Finnick's van, "Listen I need to go put this away and grab a shower before Bobby C. shows. Talk to ya later, okay?"

He turned and hurried away without waiting for an answer.

Nick managed to hold it in until they reached the campground entrance, and then he was practically rolling on the ground, laughing.

And once again, Judy's foot was thumping.

"All right Slick, mind letting me in on the joke?"

(As if she didn't know. "I swear, if he EVEN says, 'It's called a hustle Sweetheart,' he's walking home tonight!")

It took another moment or two for Nick to recover, and then he was shaking his head and offering her a wry, foxy smile.

"Carrots...Carrots...Carrots...how many times to I have to tell you? Never ask a fox if you owe him one. We may not be shifty and dishonest as a species, but that doesn't mean we give away freebies."

Judy looked at him with a narrowed eye and both paws on her hips.

"Oh reeeeeally? Then how do you explain Conor offering to give back my sister's bass guitar for the exact same price he paid for it?"

Nick had a ready answer for that one.

"That was different, rabbit. Conor made the decision to rescue Erin's bass guitar all on his own. But he never offered to try and fix it; you and your sister roped him into that job."

If he thought he was going to silence Judith Laverne Hopps that easily, the fox had another thing coming. She knew exactly what to tell him in response

"Uhhh, let's get back to the farmstall."

When they returned to the Carrot Days Festival, they found the gates had opened and the crowds had come surging in.

They also found someone minding the gate that led to the campgrounds, an off-white ram with curling horns; fortunately he'd was a local sheep, not another one of those bighorn rams brought in from who knows where. Even better, Judy knew him; he was Tommy Combs, her old friend Sharla's big brother. (He had been there to witness her encounter with Gideon Grey, in the wake of her 'Zootopia' skit.)

"I really wish Sharla could have made it Judy." He said, "I'd love to see the look on her face when she finds out how Gideon ended up."

'So would I," the bunny answered with a laugh.

When they got inside the gate, Nick and Judy saw that not only were there a lot more visitors, a whole slew of new vendor's stalls had popped up overnight; Conor and Finnick's space had been taken over by a Mouflon goat selling metal garden sculptures.

"I feel for that poor soul." Nick Wilde said, corking a thumb, "You watch Carrots, half the animals showing up at that booth today are going to want a Gazelle tour-shirt...and when they find out he doesn't have any, they're going to take it out on him."

"No bet, fox." Judy answered with a painful sigh. He was right of course but still, the poor goat had no idea what he was letting himself in for.

Or maybe he did; as they passed the stall, she saw a sign being raised over the top of the canopy, "No T-Shirts Here." She turned to nudge Nick in the ribs, but the fox had already seen it.

By far the majority of the newcomers were food cart vendors...and by far the majority of these were selling something Judy and Nick both loathed, deep-fried food. (It was one of the first things they'd discovered they had in common.)

Here was booth selling deep-fried pickles, there was another selling deep-fried green tomatoes, and of course there were several offering deep-fried carrots-on-a-stick, plus deep fried insect sellers purveying a myriad of different species.

When they turned onto the Midway, Nick Wilde threw up his paws in frustration and disgust. "Okay, that's it, that's ALL!"

Judy craned her neck and looked past the fox, and then she was groaning too. "Ohhhh, sweet cheez n' CRACKERS!"

It was as much an observation as an exclamation; directly in front of them was a food stall hawking 'Deep Fried Sweet Cheese and Crackers'."

They tried not to look at it as they passed.

"Oh that's nothing," Judy's father told them, when they arrived back at the Hopps Family Farm sales booth, "Last year we had a cart selling deep-fried margarine, if you can believe that."

Nick and Judy believed it, but that didn't mean they didn't want go out and slap someone.

Then another voice spoke from behind the stall, "Judy, is that you?"

It was her sister Erin.

"Yeah Sis," Judy told her, "Good news, Conor thinks the jack on that guitar we found will work with your bass." She was about to add a caveat, when the younger bunny came out from behind the booth.

She was dressed a lot more plainly that the day before, just jeans and a navy-blue plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up and her ears in a scarf, looking every bit the farmer's daughter. Judy wasn't quite sure what to make of her sister's quick-change act; it could be something either very good or very bad, depending on the younger bunny's motivation.

"I wished you'd waited until I got here before you talked to Conor, Jude," she said.

Judy wasn't bothered by this; her sister spoke without a trace of angst in her voice, her brows did not furrow and her foot did not thump; it was a simple statement of fact, nothing more.

"I appreciate the help and all," Erin went on, "But I really should have been there; the whole thing's kind of my responsibility."

"Sorry Sis, you're right." Judy admitted, trying not to grimace. "I wanted to get that guitar to Conor as soon as possible, and I guess I didn't think."

(She did not tell Erin that it was most likely a good thing they'd gone ahead without her. She could just imagine her sister's reaction if Conor Lewis had offered HER his paw after spitting into it first.)

"She'd probably have tried to deck him all over again...only this time I don't think he'd have let her. Or maybe she wouldn't have; not if she'd seen his dance with that punching bag."

Just then, a young voice squealed from behind the booth, and Cotton Hopps came running out, throwing her arms tightly around Nick Wilde's waist.

"Where've you BEEN?" she demanded, looking up at the red fox with a pouty expression, "We've still got lots more Carrot Days stuff to do." She grabbed his paw and turned around, making a game attempt to drag him towards the Midway.

The red fox winked and looked slyly at Judy and Erin.

"Ahhh, you Hopps sisters...like peas in a pod."

The two bunnies each put a paw on her hip, assuming a sultry pose.

"Darn right we are Nick." said Judy.

"And proud of it too," said Erin, reaching up to give her sister a high-five.

"Yeah!" said Cotton, striking a reasonable facsimile of her elder siblings' stance.

"Well first things first, Judy has to go check in for the Rabbithon." Bonnie Hopps had just come around the stall with a fresh flat of carrots.

Judy eyed her cautiously, "Mom? The race doesn't start till eleven; I've still got plenty of time."

"Not if you want a good starting position hon," her mother told her, setting the flat into place, "it's strictly first come, first serve. If you wait until later, you'll end up near the back of the pack."

"Whoa, I did not know that." Judy puffed her cheeks and let out a breath of air. Then she looked at the fox standing next to her. "Nick, I hate to ask, but..."

"Don't worry Carrots, I've got this." he assured her...and that was good enough for Judy Hopps; there was no bravura in his manner, not of that cocky self-assuredness he affected sometimes; as a matter of fact, Nick sounded a little UN-sure of himself, not 100% certain he could handle the kids on his own, but determined to give it his best.

And that was all she could ask of him.

"Okay fox," she said, "I'll see you at the starting line; don't be late."

"I won't," he promised, raising a paw in a ranger scout salute, and then he cupped his paws muzzle, calling out in a carnival barker's pitch. "Hurry, hurry, hurry; step right up for Nick Wilde's Magical Carrot Days tour; who else is coming with Cotton and me?"

He immediately found himself surrounded by a gaggle of young bunnies including, much to Judy's surprise, Erin.

"There's nothing I can do to help Bobby Catmull and that Conor kid right now," she said, "except to leave them alone."

"Good thought," her mother nodded, but Judy suspected it was more a case of the younger bunny wanting something to take her mind off her bass guitar—at least for a while.

Nick wasn't quite ready to go just yet, however.

"Before we take off," he said to Bonnie, "It there anything the kids aren't allowed to have?"

"Yes, none of that deep-fried junk," Judy's mother answered crisply, before giving the kids her patented 'And-I-mean-it' look, "and especially NO deep-fried cotton candy."

The reaction to this was a chorus of young, "Awwwwws!" while Nick and Judy just looked at each other slack jawed.

Deep-fried cotton candy...

"It's a good thing he asked mom that question before he takes off with the kids," Judy decided, "maybe he HAS got this."

"Right, Mrs. Hopps," the fox said to her, reverting to a formal address, the better to emphasize the rule she had just laid down. And then to the bunnies gathered around him, "Come on everybody, let's go."

Judy watched until they disappeared around a corner, and was just about to turn away when she heard that chorale of young voices again, "Awwwww, no FAIR!"

She sighed, shook her head, pinched the bridge of her nose, and then headed for the exit with fingers crossed.

Behind her, she heard Cotton's voice.

"Niiiiick, Timmy keeps LOOKING at me!"

She picked up the pace, hurrying to get out of earshot as quickly as possible.

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Author's note:

Yes Virginia, there IS deep-fried cotton candy; I saw it for sale at a State Fair some years ago. And there is also deep fried cheesecake, deep fried Twinkies, and deep fried Snickers bars, plus the ultimate triple-bypass special, deep-fried butter. (I substituted margarine here; even I have my limits.)