Hector ran through the thick, misty jungle, leaping logs and dodging forest debris with the ease and dexterity that came naturally to a chimpanzee. He was being chased. The police were following him, and he needed to escape so that he could save the blue fern.

Heavy hooves pummeled the ground mere feet behind him. The police were riding giraffes. Not just any giraffes- war giraffes. And what was more, they were breathing fire from their faces. Of course, giraffes- even war giraffes- aren’t very fast in a dense jungle, so the police were also flying in helicopters above him. The helicopters were like blue whales falling from a plane. Hector was a chimpanzee.

Hector tripped and grunted. His long, prehensile tail was caught in some chains dangling from Flores’ pocket. He didn’t know where Flores had come from, but he was in front of Hector now, sitting in a purple tree.

Hector remembered that chimpanzees don’t have tails, but it was too late. The giraffes were closing in. He needed to keep the fern safe. He lunged for a nearby tree, straining against Flores’ encircling chains.

He wasn’t fast enough. A giraffe stepped on him and rolled him around on the ground.

“Wake up already!”

Groaning, Hector turned on the uncomfortable cot he had been sleeping on.

“Stop pushing me around, giraffe,” he muttered, and then tried to slip back into unconsciousness.

The dim, shadowy form of Dante punched him in the shoulder. “Sit up, Hector!” he whispered. “There’s trouble brewing! You need to wake up!”

At the words “trouble brewing,” Hector rubbed the remnants of sleep out of his eyes and stared at Dante worriedly, if a bit foggily as well. The thought struck him that the police had discovered the mountain compound and were planning a raid.

“Have… got in yet? They got in? How many? Where are… where… are they? The giraffes… don’t fit… inside.”

Dante frowned.

“What? Where are… who? Who are you talking about?” A great deal of his urgency dissipated into confusion.

Hector completed the journey to total lucidity and remembered how to speak properly. “The police! What other ‘trouble’ could there be? The police!”

Dante thought about this for a brief instant and then shook his head, speaking in a low, furtive voice. “Something worse, Hector. Something much worse.” Hector had no idea what could possibly be worse than another police raid, but Dante didn’t seem as if he wanted to explain. “Get up and pack your things. No questions.” He glanced, anxiously, or so Hector thought, over his shoulder towards the half-open door behind him. In a daze, Hector climbed off of the cot and dressed hastily. Glancing out the single-paned window in the concrete room, he realized it was still very dark. Only the faintest glimmer of light illuminated the black-blue skies. Stars glinted in the twilight like pin-holes poked in a giant dome.

Dante shut the door and locked it from the inside. “Be as quick as you can. We shouldn’t lose any time,” he told Hector in an anxious whisper. Leaning against the wall was what Hector judged to be an Arctic Warfare sniper rifle that certainly hadn’t been there earlier. “Take it. It’s the smallest rifle I could find in the compound’s arsenal, and you’ll need it. No time to explain.”

“Dante, what is going on?” asked Hector in bafflement.

Dante paused from stuffing a first-aid kit into Hector’s backpack. A look of frustration slipped across his face. “I’ll tell you. Just pack.” Hector obeyed and for a moment silence engulfed all.

“It’s Flores. The fern. He wants the fern.”

“I… know that? And I’m not selling it.” Hector was confused. Obviously he wants it. Who wouldn’t?

Dante shook his head. “ You don’t understand. Hector, about an hour ago I woke up because of a discussion in a nearby room. It was two of Flores’ henchmen. They were talking about their boss’ plan to take some drug, by force, from a man by the name of Domini. Do you know any other Dominis who have magic ferns coveted by a drug-lord?”

Hector gaped. He knew Flores wanted the fern, but he had never suspected this.

“I’m going to give them a… distraction. It’ll give you time to escape. I don’t think Flores will treat you kindly if you stay, so the best you can do is make a run for it. Where to, I don’t know, but there’s enough supplies in that backpack and in your truck to last a month, or so you’ve told me.”

Still in shock, Hector slung on the backpack, picked up the lightweight rifle, and rapidly consumed a protein bar offered to him by Dante.

“When do I go?”

“As soon as possible. But they’re not gonna let you escape that easily.. I’ve seen men on patrol on the roof, and I don’t think they’re watching only for the authorities. You’ll need to be as stealthy as possible.” Dante suddenly stared hard at Hector. “I’ll try my best, amigo, but it’s up to you- Flores cannot get that fern, if everything you say about it is really true. Do you understand?”

Hector nodded dumbly. This has escalated quickly.

“Good. Come with me.”

Dante cautiously opened the door and glanced down the hallway. “It’s clear. Be as quiet as you can,” he whispered. Silently, the two sneaked down the hallway to another door and entered a dark, empty room. Across the dust-shrouded stone they crept and passed through another door leading to a guardhouse-like room. An electric light flickered above and a steaming cup of coffee sat under some security camera displays, but for the moment the room was empty. A fourth door led them down yet another unlit hallway and turned sharply left. At the end of the hall was a final door that led to yet another unused room. Dante turned and locked the door behind them, then pulled the chain of a bare lightbulb above. It cast a dim orange glow around the room, which was filled with dusty crates marked “Special Order- HANDLE WITH CARE.” By the weedy aroma that filled the room, Hector guessed the contents of the boxes to be dried cannabis leaves.

“Stay here for ten minutes. Then go straight out into the hallway and the second door on the left leads outside. If you’re careful no one will spot you, but they have camera monitors all over, and, like I said, they have patrols on the roof.”

Hector hesitated. “Where are you going? Safety in numbers, right? What’ll happen to you?”

Dante smiled, though grimly. “I’ll be fine. I’m going to put a spoke in the wheel of Flores’ plan.”

With that, he pressed his ear to the door. After verifying that no one was outside, he slipped away in perfect silence.

Five minutes passed as Hector stood on the concrete floor, trying to process all that had happened in the previous quarter of an hour. After a while, he lifted the lid of one of the crates and sniffed the large, dry leaves inside. Smells nice.

Suddenly a muffled sound, as of a small explosion, reached his ears. He checked his watch for the first time since waking. The battered display on his watch read 5:12 AM. Dang it. I’ve lost track of the time… I need to go. He switched off the light and slid open the heavy, dusty-white door. There was a vague commotion near the front of the compound- lots of loud voices, or maybe motors. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound good.

He made his way down the dingy hallway, coming to the second door on the left. The warm early-morning air of a Mexican summer greeted his face as he stepped out into a gravel lot on the top of a massive mountain slope. For the first couple of hundred yards, there was an appalling lack of cover- some boulders, a few saplings, and a couple of half-rotted stumps here and there. I have to escape and hide down THERE? I wouldn’t make it fifty yards before they shot me. As Hector stood irresolutely, footsteps crunched on the gravel behind. He started and turned, ready to leap on his assailant, when he realized it was Dante. He had the air of a child who had gotten away with an hilarious prank scot-free, like some insane child from a classic Christmas movie.

“I did it, amigo. I did it. The distraction is done and it’ll keep them for a couple of minutes, hopefully.” He spoke in a nervous whisper, but a smile lit up his face. “I blew up Flores’ car. Without anyone noticing it was me.”

Hector almost laughed. “You blew up his car?! How is that even-”

“We don’t have time. Look. Your own truck is right over there. With luck, some of the rooftop patrol should be distracted as well. Now go!”

Hector ran for his truck. As he sprinted towards it he realized ironically that it had been locked in a small, one-car garage in order to prevent his escape- but someone had been handy with bolt-cutters. The garage door was now wide open.

Hector climbed into the worn-out Land Cruiser and breathed heavily, embracing the momentary calm before the storm.

Everything is about to get a whole lot worse.