PA 3.5: End of a Tail

Chapter IX Part I

Patches hardly had the time to examine himself since getting back into the recycling bin, but time demanded his focus was on other things. Now, however, he had the luxury of groaning and lamenting his wounds as much as he wanted. Lifting up his bloody shirt revealed an intense purple spot that could be seen past his fur on the right side of his gut. "Oh shit..." The area all around the broken rib was swelling. Patches touched the area, ignoring the pain as he found the skin and muscles tender, with a slight crunching feeling as he depressed on the almost certainly severed part of bone. His lungs hurt whenever he took large breaths, but the pain wasn't what bugged him; it was seeing his chances of winning this exchange lessen.

Patches cocked his eyebrow as his foot pressed against something soft. Patches reached for the plush object, pulling it out to reveal it to be Dellanor's bloodied purple hoodie. "She put this in here? I guess it was sitting under Brownie this entire time... Eugh." Patches quickly folded the hoodie neatly, using it as a pillow afterward. "I suppose it makes sense, she probably didn't want to leave it at my house, afterall."

The bin bumped around, drawing Patches' attention back to the dog outside.

Patches spoke aloud to Dellanor. "You know, these bloodstains aren't coming out without bleach, right?"

Dell didn't stop wheeling the cart, but it slowed from a run to a walking pace. "FFFF-" she hissed "-uck!"

"Don't worry, Dell, I just so happen to be an expert at removing unwanted stains. Though, if you want my opinion, it looks and smells so much better this way," Patches' tail was wagging; he could hear it beating the side of the bin but could barely feel anything other than his face and the bruised rib.

"Please don't smell it, that's really gross..."

Patches frowned. "What, do you think I'm stuffing it up my nose or something?"

"It's also... Really creepy," she murmured.

He scoffed.

There was a sudden bump as the bin hit a rock, jostling him around at the running pace Dell was taking them at. After Patches finished nursing the pain caused by the jolt, he leaned back against the dirty, bloodstained rear of the bin and crawled into a fetal position. Despite the lack of legroom, dried corgi blood, and ethanol smell, Patches nearly dozed off if it wasn't for the rocks Dell was bumping into.

Soon enough, the running came to a walk. "Sorry. I need... to take a breather." Dell said in between huffs and puffs of air. Patches felt another jostling as the bin was made flat, no longer at a 45-degree angle. He heard a zipper, a pause, then the sound of pressurized gas, then the zipper again.

Patches took the break to speak what was on his mind. "Now probably isn't the best time to ask, but what the heck is wrong with you?"

"Wh- ME? What the hell is wrong with- with you!" she hissed back.

"Do you realize how embarrassing that was for me? Taunting them for a whole ten minutes only for you to almost screw everything up." Patches was out of air when he spoke, reflecting how it hurt far too much to take deep breaths.

"I-I-" Dell stuttered, still in the process of recovering from her asthma. "You were going to kill them!"

"And they were going to kill us!"

"No; maybe the husky was, but that mutt was crying. I heard what you said to them."

"You'd be very surprised. That whelp is more manipulative than anyone else I know, how else did you fall for their tricks so easily- you think they'd try and stab you without lowering your guard first?"

Dell frowned at the harsh language and sighed. "Alright... I've held off on asking, but now would be a great time to tell me what exactly happened between you and Coco. All I know is that she massacred everyone, you raised the zombies, killed her brother, and then fixed us."

Dell angled the bin again, putting it on its wheels and rolling it down the street.

Patches chuckled. "Heh, now really isn't a good time to tell you a story, especially one as long as that."

"Are you kidding? Patches, when I first met you, I thought you were misunderstood, but you're a fucking m-monster. You've planned against overwhelming odds and somehow won because of their oversights. You fight like... Like... Like I don't know what."

Patches sighed loudly, making a flippant gesture with his paw. "I'm flattered."

"E-Each time I speak to them, your friends shout stuff like, 'You're working with him? Impossible! Why?!' and they tell me that you're manipulating me. I want to know why they say those things."

"You can't see it, but I'm rolling my eyes," Patches said from inside the container.

Dell frowned, making sure to go over a bump and relish the resulting "OW" that came from the bin.

"You aren't getting this wand until you tell me what happened."

"... Fine, I'll tell you after I'm lying in your bed, eating a meal you made for your dearest friend."

Dell remained quiet for a moment, then mumbled. "... Fine, you prick."

"Bitch," she heard him mumble, before they both grumbled at eachother.

Patches smiled, attempting to recline but finding it more comfortable to clutch his swollen rib so the thing didn't jostle around so much. Every time they hit a bump, he would grunt in pain, making Dell frown less and less. On reflection, it was pretty funny how she took the wand from Patches and shoved him in a bin. It was only about 1:30, but already the sun was setting on the horizon, making it easy for Dell as she snuck her way past the patrols using Brownie's info, all towards the west side of town, to bring the dog to her house, and figure out what he did wrong.