BOOKS AND THEIR COVERS   

Title: BOOKS AND OTHER COVERS 

Author: Anna McLain 

Rating: PG 

Pairing: None 

Spoilers: None 

Disclaimer: Due South is the property of Alliance. The author will make no
money from this work. It has not been beta read. Any and all feedback is
welcome at sgmiii@aol.com 

Archive: RSY, racine, Amber, DuSC, WWOMB, FL, all others, please ask. 

Thank you for your time. 

  

BOOKS AND OTHER COVERS 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

by Anna McLain 

  

"Fraser! Wait up!" Ray yelled at the Mountie's quickly fading back. Ray
ran faster. His foot slipped on the icy sidewalk and he cursed. How Fraser
could run so easily on this ice was beyond him. Rya felt like her would
slip and break out all his teeth at any moment. 

Suddenly, Fraser turned a corner. Ray slid up behind him, fell and caught
himself with one hand. He winced at the jab of pain through his fur-lined
glove. 

Fraser squinted into the darkness inside a broken warehouse window. 

"Huey and Louis are over there, behind those crates," he whispered. "I
believe there are three, possibly four perpetrators scatted on this side
of the warehouse." 

Ray nodded, gasping for breath. 

Fraser peered into his face. "When you're ready." 

Ray nodded. They had to go in, of course. The Duck Boys had called for
backup. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and took out his pistol.
"That door over there?" Ray whispered. 

Fraser nodded. Crouching low, they both ran for the door and ducked
inside, taking shelter behind some boxes. They could hear the perps
talking softly.  

"What is that, Chinese?" Ray hissed.  

"Thai." 

"So, you know that one?" 

"No, unfortunately." 

Suddenly, gunfire erupted, pitter pattering from the metal support beams
around the room.  

"Give it up! You're surrounded!" Louis Gardino yelled. 

A burst of gunfire answered him.  

Ray joined the gunfight, shooting one man in the shoulder. Bullets whizzed
past their heads, lodging in the crates and ricocheting from the metal
walls. The cacophony was nearly deafening. Fraser crept behind the crates
until he came up behind one of the shooters. Ray nodded at him, motioning
to Huey and Louis to aim away. The shooter stopped to reload and Fraser
shoved the crates over onto him. The man's screams echoed above the din of
gunfire, followed by a loud crack as one of the crates broke open, burying
him in a flood of small fur pelts. 

Suddenly, the warehouse was quiet. The stillness was so deep that Ray
could hear his heartbeat pound at his temples. Slowly, he raised up and
peered around. Huey and Louis cautiously crept toward the wounded
criminals.  

"Fraser," Ray called. 

"Here, Ray." 

Ray followed his voice, tuning out the voices of the other officers as
they Mirandized the wounded men.  

Fraser carefully dug the man out from under the pelts, a grim look on his
face. 

"What's up with you? We won." 

Fraser scowled up at him. "The pelts." 

Ray looked at them closely. "Yeah, so I feel sorry for Bugs and Rocky." 

"They aren't rabbit or squirrel, Ray." 

Ray rolled his eyes, helping Fraser drag the man to his feet.  

Fraser cuffed the man and shoved him roughly toward the other two
officers. He picked up a soft black fur. "These are domesticated companion
animals. This one..." He sniffed it. "Is German Shepherd." He lifted
another and held it out to Ray. "This is cat. A Persian, I believe." 

Ray screwed his face up in distaste. "What? Yuck! What kinda weirdo
would..." 

"The fur trade is a very lucrative business, Ray. Some countries view what
we see as pets as fur-bearing animals or food. Their pelts shipped off to
Europe and elsewhere." 

"And what do they do with 'em?" 

"Trim coats, line hats or boots..." Fraser glanced down at Ray's gloves.
"Or line gloves." 

Ray's eyes widened in shock. His gaze fell to his hands. He ripped off the
gloves as though they suddenly sprung fangs. "Eww, I been wearing Fido?" 

Fraser shrugged.  

"Jeez." 

"I estimate there are 500 pelts in this crate. Given the number of crates
in this shipment, that would be approximately 100,000 in this room alone."


Ray grimaced and held his stomach. "Let's take these creeps in. I don't
think I can even eat a hot-dog for lunch now." 

"We can get you other gloves, Ray." 

"I'd rather freeze." 

  

THE END. 

  

The events in the story are based on fact. For more information see the
Humane Society homepage: www.hsus.org or
http://www.hsus.org/current/dc_fur/title.html